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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS & CO., NEW- YORK. 



PHILOTHEA: A GRECIAN ROMANCE. 

A New and Beautiful Edition, Revised and Corrected. 

"This novel, as its title indicates, is an attempt to paint the manners and life of 
Grecian Classical times. Mrs. Child has some intellectual traits, which are well 
suited to success in this field of literary enterprize. She has a vigorous and ex- 
uberant imagination, and an accurate eye for beauty of form. She understands 
the harmonious construction of language, and can describe both nature and society 
with liveliness and truth. Her style, in its general character, is rich and eloquent ; 
abounding in brilliant turns and fanciful illustrations. It is generally simple, ener- 
getic, and impressive ; but sometimes it is too dazzling. The time selected by Mrs. 
Child is the most brilliant period in the history of Atliens. 

•' We cannot leave the book, without expressing our persuasion that it will take a 
prominent place in our elegant literature. Every page of it breathes the inspiration 
of genius, and shows a highly cultivated taste in literature and art." — N. A. Rev. 



HISTORY OF NA^OMEN. 

The History of the Condition of Women, in various Ages and Nations, 
from the earliest to the present times. 2 vols. A new edition. 

Vol. I. Women of Asia and Africa, — Jewish, Babylonian, Assyrian, Lycian, Cari- 
an, Trojan, Syrian, Arabian, Aft'^hanistan, Circassian, Georgian, Armenian, Turk- 
ish, Persian, Hindoo, Thibetan, Burmese, Siamese, Malay, Chinese, Coreau, Tartar, 
Amazons, Siberian, Javanese, Sumatran, Japanese; Women of Borneo, Celebes, 
Bali, Timor, New Holland, Van Dieman's Land, Loo Ciioo, and other Islands. — 
Egyptian, Carthagenian, Moorish, African, Hottentot, <fcc. 

Vol. 2. Women of Europe and America. — Grecian, Roman, Scandinavian, Danish, 
and other Northern Nations. Women during the Middle Ages, and tlie Centuries 
succeeding. English, Irish, Scotcli, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Polish, 
German, Austrian, Tyrolese, Dutch, Swiss, Russian, Swedish, Icelandish ; Modern 
Greeks ; Peasantry ; Modern Amusements, Marriages, Laws, and Customs ; Women 
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Of the United States. Of the South Sea Islands, &c. &c. 



THE MpTHER'S BOOK. 

New Edition — Revised and Amended. 

The value and usefulness of this little bpok is well known, — it having passed 
through eiglit editions in this country and twelve in England. 

Contents of the Chapters. — I. On the means of developing the bodily senses in ear- 
liest infancy. — II. Early development of the affections. — III. Early cultivation of 
intellect. — IV. Management in ciiildhood. — V. Amusements and employments. — 
VI. Sunday. Religion. Views of Death. Supernatural appearances. — VII. Advice 
concerning books. List of good books for various ages. — VIII. Politeness. — IX. 
Beauty. Dress. Gentility. — X. Management during the teens. — XI. Views of 
Matrimony. — Concluding observations. 



i-LOWERS FOR CHILDREN. 

A Series of volumes in Prose and Verse, for Children of various ages. 

"These are flowers which have budded and blossomed for others beside children; 
and as none may now look upon the lilies of the field, bowing tlieir heads in pure 
effulgence, or in gorgeous luxuriance of show, without remembering a lesson im- 
pressed upon every petal, by that mild look of the Saviour's, which he gave them 
while observing that human hearts might he instructed by them, so these little flow- 
ers, gathered in tlie fields of Christian wisdom, in the company of the spirit of th^ 
Saviour, suggest lessons to instruct the minds of the wisest, and open the springs of 
pure emotion in the hearts of the best." — Boston Courier. 

" Verily, we are delighted ourselves, and congtatuhite our readers who are blessed 
with the .heritage of children, upon this accession to our juvenile libraries, and hope 
that Mrs. Chad will not be chary of her volumes. These "Flowers" are so sweet 
and unfading that we would make our youngsters' libraries redolent of their per- 
fume and hosiuty."— Commercial Advertiser. 



LETTERS 



N E ¥ YORK. 



SECOND SERIES, 



BY L; MARIA CHILD, 

AUTHOR 03" PHIIiOTHEA, THE MOTHER'S BOOK:, THE GIRL'S BOOK, 
FLOWERS FOR CHILDREN, ETC. 



" Every gift of noble origin 
Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath." 

WORDSWOKTH. 

" Music, by the fluent medium, the stimulus, and the upbearing elasticity it offers 
for the inspirations of thought, alone seems to present a living form, rather than a 
dead monument, to the desires of genius. What the other arts indicate, and 
philosophy infers, this all-enfolding language declarer." 

S. M. Fuller. 



NEW YORK: 
C. S. FRANCIS & CO., 252 BROADWAY. 

boston: 

J. H. FRANCIS, 128 WASHINGTON STREET 

1845. 



•C 5 5-1 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1845, by 

C. S. FRANCIS & CO. 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New- York. 




-^51 






PRINTED BY 

MUKROE & FbANCIS, 

Boston. 



TO MY FRIEND, 

EDMUND L. BENZON", 
THIS VOLUME 

IS AFFECTIONATELY AND GRATEFULLY 

INSCRIBED 



TO THE RE'ADER. 

I DO not call this volume Letters from New York, 
on account of the unexpected popularity of the first 
volume, or because I consider it altogether appro- 
priate; but I can think of no better name, under 
which to arrange articles so miscellaneous and in- 
congruous in their character. Many of them are 
now published for the first time, others have been 
scattered through various periodicals. I claim for 
them no other merit than that of being an hon- 
est record of my own views and impressions, on 
.subjects which most interest me. If you discover 
faults in my premises, or errors in my conclusions, 
it may at least do you some good, by exciting your 
own mind to increased activity. That I see glori- 
ous truths in mere fragments, and utter even those 
with most inadequate expression, I am painfully 
conscious. But frankly and confidingly, as children 
do, I show you an image of my soul, as reflected 
in the mirror of its passing thoughts. I have writ- 
ten nothing from affectation, sectarian prejudice, or 
partisan zeal. Perhaps you will forgive my defi- 
ciencies, for the sake of my kind intentions, and 

sincere love of truth. 

L. M. C. 



CONTENTS 



LETTER I. 

PAGE 

Christmas. The principles of Peace. The Town that would not 
Fight. A Christmas Visitor to the Poor. High Rents paid by the 
Poor in New York ; their kindness to each other. . . 13 



LETTER n. 
Ole Bui heard for the first time. The vast significance of Music. 22 

LETTER m. 
New Year's Festivities. The Callithumpian Band. The Nymph 
Crotona. ....... 27 

LETTER IV. 
Reminiscences of a former State of Existence. The Remembered 
Home. ....... 82 

LETTER V. * 

The story of poor Charity Bowery. . . . .48 

LETTER VL 
Mnemonics, or Artificial Memory. Wonderful instances of Memory. 
Anecdote of Voltaire ; of Pope Clement 6th. Systems of Mnemo- 
nics. Dickens' Christmas Carol. . . . .5/ 

LETTER VIL 
Valentine's Day. Story of the Umbrella Girl and Lord Henry Stuart. 66 

LETTER VIIL 
Description of Mammoth Cave. . . . . .75 



CONTENTS. 



LETTER IX. 

PAOK 

A walk down Broadway. The little Hoop-Girl and her Brother. 96 



LETTER X. 
Hope Always. Human Progress. Emancipation in the British West 
Indies. The position of Ireland. O'Connel. . . .99 

» 

LETTER XL 

Driesbach's Menagerie. Lectures on Anatomy. Analogy between 
the circulation of the Blood and the progress of Truth in Society. 108 

LETTER XIL 
Spiritual Correspondences, illustrated largely by Music. Correspon- 
dence of Light, of Water, of Oil, of Clothing. . . 113 



LETTER XIIL 
A popular definition of the original application of the word Trans- 
cendental. The Transcendental style of Writing. Playful account 
of a Transcendental Conversation. .... 125 



LETTER XIV. 
Anecdotes of Hannah Adams. ..... 130 

LETTER XV. 
Animals. Judge Edmonds and the Kitten. Amusing Anecdote of a 
Fox. Traditions concerning Pythagoras. . . 138 

LETTER XVI. 
Waste Lands of Virginia. The deserted Church. . . 144 

LETTER XVIL 
The eccentric German. The Burgomaster of Stuttgard. Swabian 
Bonnets. ....... 150 



CONTENTS. XI 



LETTER XVIII. 

PAGE 

Fourth of July. Fireworks. Native Americans and Foreigners. 161 



LETTER XIX. 

Children in Union Park. The House covered with Vines. Fountains. 
Bath for the Poor. Croton Water. The Alhamra. Philharmonic 
Concerts. Italian Opera. Castle Garden. Niblo's Garden. Vaux- 
hall. The Night Blooming- Cereus. Hoboken. American Mu- 
seum. Theatres. ...... 167 



LETTER XX. 
Genius and Skill. The Romance of Thot and Freia. . . 176 



LETTER XXL 

Steam-boat Excursions. Music. Saturn and the Earth. The Sailor's 
Home. Institution at Rennes. The large-souled Mechanic. 195 



LETTER XXII. 
Swedenborg's Views of the Future Life. The Doctrine of Correspon- 
dence. Spiritual Correspondences of Music. . . 202 



LETTER XXIIL 

The Arts' Union. Bonfield, Cropsey, Leutze, Crawford, Powers, 
Kneeland. ....... 214 



LETTER XXIV. 
Greenwood Cemetery. The apparently Dead restored to Life. 
Chime of Bells in Philadelphia. The Swiss Bell-Ringers . 221 



LETTER XXV. 
The Violin. Effects of Scenery on Music. The Northmen. Ex- 
pression of Scotch and Irish Music. Lizst's Piano-playing. Lines 
to Ole Bui. ....... 228 



Xll CONTENTS 



LETTER XXVI. 

PAGK 

The Millerites. Sir Harry Falkland. Various calculations concern- 
ing the end of the World. ..... 235 



LETTER XXVIL 

Autumn Woods. Mountains. Profitable investments in Religion. 
President Edwards. ...... 241 



LETTER XXVm. 

Spirit of Trade. Amusing Advertisements. Razor Strops. Luck 
and Knack. Self-Lo%e. Thorough Bass, or fundamental Harmo- 
ny. The perfect chord of Music and of Colours. Fourier's perfect 
Social Chord. The Major and Minor INIode. . . 243 



LETTER XXIX. 

The Prison Association. Encouragement instead of Driving. The 
Criminal's account of her brief Trial. Anecdotes of individuals 
saved by the kindness of Isaac T. Hopper. Gentleness toward the 
Insane. Dorothea L. Dix. ..... 258 



LETTER XXX. 

Ole Bui's Niagara and Solitude of the Prairie. Genius and Criticism. 
Anecdote of Haydn and of Beethoven. The tone of an Instrument, 
changed by the manner of playing upon it. . . . 272 

LETTER XXXI. 

Increase of Luxury in New York. Employment essential to Happi- 
ness. Women peculiarly injured by the want of high motives to 
Exertion. . . . . . . .279 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



LETTER I. 



December 25th, 1843. 

To-day is Christmas. For several days past, cart- 
loads of evergreens have gone by my windows, the 
pure snow falling on them, soft and still as a bless- 
ing. To-day, churches are wreathed in evergreen, 
altars are illuminated, and the bells sound joyfully 
in Gloria Excelsis. Throngs of worshippers are go- 
ing up to their altars, in the Greek, Syrian, Armenian. 
Roman and English churches. Eighteen hundred 
years ago, a poor babe was born in a stable, and a 
few lonely shepherds heard heavenly voices, soft war- 
bling over the moonlit hills, proclaiming "Peace on 
earth, and good- will towards men." Earth made no 
response to the chorus. It always entertains angels 
unawares. When the Holy One came among them, 
they mocked and crucified him. But now the stars, 
in their midnight course, listen to millions of human 
voices, and deep organ tones struggle upward, vain- 
ly striving to express the hopes and aspirations, which 
that advent concentrated from the past, and prophe- 
sied for the future. From East to West, from North 
to South, men chant hymns of praise to the despised 
Nazarine, and kneel in worship before his cross. 
How beautiful is this universal homage to the Prin- 
ciple of Love — that feminine principle of the universe, 
the inmost centre of Christianity. It is the divine 

VOL. n. — 2 



14 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

idea which distinguishes it from aU other religions, 
and yet the idea in which Christian nations evince 
so httle faitli, that one would think they kept only to 
swear bv, that Gospel which says "Swear not at 
all." 

Centuries have passed, and through infinite con- 
flict have "ushered in our brief to-day;" and is 
there peace and good will among men? Sincere 
faith in the words of Jesus would soon fulfil the pro- 
phecy which angels sung. But the world persists 
in saying, "This doctrine of unqualified forgiveness 
and perfect love, though beautiful and holy, can- 
not be carried into practice 7iow ; men are not yet 
prepared for it." The same spirit says, "It would 
not be safe to emancipate slaves; the}^ must first be 
fitted for freedom." As if Slavery ever could fit men 
for freedom, or war ever lead the nations into peace ! 
Yet men who gravely utter these excuses, laugh at 
the shallow wit of that timid mother, who declared 
that her son should never venture into the water till 
he had learned to swim. 

Those who have dared to trust the principles of 
peace, have always found them perfectly safe. It 
can never prove otherwise, if accompanied by the 
declaration that such a course is the result of Chris- 
tian principle, and a deep friendliness for humanity. 
Who seemed so little likely to understand such a 
position, as the Indians of North America ? Yet how 
readily they laid down tomahawks and scalping- 
knives at the feet of William Penn ! With what 
humble sorrow they apologized for killing the only 
two Quakers they were ever known to attack ! " The 
men carried arms," said they, "and therefore we 
did not knoin they were not fighters. We thought 
they pretended to be Quakers, because they were 
cowards." The savages of the East, who murdered 
Lyman and Munson, made the same excuse. " They 
carried arms," said they, "and so we supposed they 
v/ere not Christian missionaries, but enemies. We 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 15 

would have done them no harm, if we had known 
they were men of God." 

If a nation could but attain to such high wisdom 
as to abjure v/ar, and proclaim to all the earth, "We 
Avill not fight, under any provocation ; if other na- 
tions have aught against us, we will settle the ques- 
tion by umpires mutually chosen," think you that 
any nation would dare to make war upon such a 
people? Nay, verily, they would be instinctively 
asliamed of such an act, as men are now ashamed to 
attack a woman or a child. Even if any v.^ere found 
mean enough to pursue such a course, the whole 
civilized world would cry "fy!" upon them, and by 
universal consent, brand them as poltroons and as- 
sassins. And assassins they would be, even in the 
common acceptation of the term. 

I have somewhere read of a regiment ordered to 
march into a small town and take it. I think it 
was in the Tyrol ; but wherever it was, it chanced 
that the place was settled by a colony who believed 
the Gospel of Christ, and proved their faith by works. 
A courier from a neighbouring village informed them 
that troops were advancing to take the town. They 
quietly answered, "If they loill take it, they must." 
Soldiers soon came riding in, with colours flying, and 
fifes piping their shrill defiance. They looked round 
for an enemy, and saw the farmer at his plough, the 
blacksmith at his anvil, and the women at their 
churns and spinning-wheels. Babies crowed to hear 
the music, and boys ran out to see the pretty trainers, 
Avith feathers and bright buttons, " the harlequins of 
the nineteenth century." Of course, none of these 
were in a proper position to be shot at. " Where 
are your soldiers'?" they asked. "We have none," 
was the brief reply. "But we have come to take 
the town." " Well, friends, it lies before you." " But 
is there nobody here to fight?" "No; we are all 
Christians." 

Here was an emergency altogether unprovided for; 



16 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

a sort of resistance which no bullet could hit; a fort- 
ress perfectly bomb-proof The commander was 
perplexed. " If there is nobody to fight with, of 
course we cannot fight," said he. "It is impossible 
to take such a town as this." So he ordered the 
horses' heads to be turned about, and they carried 
the human animals out of the village, as guiltless as 
they entered, and perchance somewhat wiser. 

This experiment on a small scale, indicates how 
easy it would be to dispense with armies and navies, 
if men only had faith in the religion they profess to 
believe. When France lately reduced her army, 
England immediately did the same; for the exist- 
ence of one army creates the necessity for another, 
unless men are safely ensconced in the bomb-proof 
fortress above-mentioned. 

The doctrines of Jesus are not beautiful abstrac- 
tions, but living vital truths. There is in them no 
elaborate calculation of consequences, but simply the 
divine impulse uttered. They are few and simple, 
but infinite in spirit, and of universal application. In 
all conceivable moral propositions, they stand like 
the algebraic X for the unknown quantity, and if 
consulted aright, always give the true answer. The 
world has been deluged with arguments about war, 
slavery, &c., and the wisest product of them all is 
simply an enlightened application of the maxims of 
Jesus. Faith in God, love to man, and action obe- 
dient thereto, from these flow all that belong to or- 
der, peace, and progress. Probably, the laws by 
which the universe were made are thus reducible to 
three in one, and all varieties of creation are thence 
unfolded, as all melody and harmony flow from three 
primal notes. God works synthetically. The divine 
idea goes forth and clothes itself in form, from which 
all the infinity of forms are evolved. We mortals 
see truth in fragments and try to trace it upward to 
its origin, by painful analysis. In this there is no 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 17 

growth. All creation, all life, is evolved by the op- 
posite process. We must reverence truth. We must 
have that faith in it, of which action is the appropri- 
ate form ; and, lo the progress, which we have sought 
for so painfully, will unfold upon us, as naturally as 
the seed expands into blossoms and fruit. 

I did not mean to preach a sermon. But the ever- 
greens, and the music from neighbouring churches,car- 
ried me back to the hill-sides of Palestine, and my spirit 
involuntarily began to ask — What response does earth 
now give to that chorus of peace and good will ? ^ * # 

It matters little that Christ was not born on that 
day, which the church has chosen to commemorate 
his birth. The associations twined round it for many 
centuries have consecrated it to my mind. Nor am 1 
indifferent to the fact that it was the old Roman fes- 
tival for the Birth of the Sim. As a form of their re- 
ligious idea it is interesting to me; and 1 see peculiar 
beauty in thus identifying the birth of the natural 
sun with the advent of the Sun of Righteousness, 
which, in an infinitely higher sense, enlightens and 
vivifies the nations. The learned argue that Christ 
was probably born in the spring; because the Jew- 
ish people were at that season enrolled for taxation, 
and this was the business which carried Joseph and 
Mary to Bethlehem : — and because the shepherds of 
Syria would not be watching their flocks in the open 
air, during the cold months. To these reasons, Swe- 
denborgians would add another ; for, according to the 
Doctrine of Correspondence, unfolded by their "illu- 
minated scribe," Spring corresponds to Peace; that 
diapason note, from which all growth rises in har- 
monious order. 

But I am willing to accept the wintry anniversary 
of Christmas, and take it to my heart. As the sun 
is now born anew, and his power begins to wax, in- 
stead of waning, so may the Truth and Love, which 
his Light and Heat typifies, gradually irradiate and 
warm our globe. 
2=* 



18 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Frederika Bremer gives the following delightful 
picture of this Christian festival in the cold regions 
of the North. "Not alone in the houses of the wealthy- 
blaze up jfires of joy, and are heard the glad shouts 
of children. From the humblest cottages also re- 
sounds joy ; in the prisons it becomes bright, and 
the poor partake of plenty. In the country, doors, 
hearths and tables, stand open to every wanderer. 
In many parts of Norway, the innkeeper demands no 
payment from the traveller, either for board or lodg- 
ing. This is the time in which the earth seems to 
feel the truth of the heavenly words, 'It is more 
blessed to give than to receive.' And not only hu- 
man beings, but animals alsOjhave their good things 
at Christmas. All domestic animals are entertained 
in the best manner ; and the little birds of heaven 
rejoice, too ; for at every barn, a tall stake raises 
itself, on the top of which rich sheaves of oats invite 
them to a magnificent meal. Even the poorest day- 
labourer, if he himself possess no corn, asks and re- 
ceives from the peasant a bundle of grain, raises it 
aloft, and makes the birds rejoice beside his empty 
barn." 

The Romans kept their festival of the Sun with 
social feasts and mutual gifts; and the windows of 
New- York are to-day filled with all forms of luxury 
and splendour, to tempt the wealthy, who are making 
up Christmas boxes for family and friends. Many 
are the rich jewels and shining stuifs, this day be- 
stowed by affection or vanity. In this I have no 
share ; but if I were as rich as John Jacob Astor, 
I would this day go to the shop of Baron to, a poor 
Italian artist, in Orchard-street, buy all he has, and 
give freely to every one who enjoys forms of beauty. 
There are hidden in that small obscure workshop 
some little gems of Art. Alabaster nymphs, antique 
urns of agate, and Hebe vases of the costly Verd de 
Prato. There is something that moves me strange- 
ly in those old Grecian forms. They stand like pet- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 19 

rifled melodies from the world's youthful heart. I 
would like to buy out Baronto every Christmas, and 
mix those ''fair humanities of old reHgion" wuh 
the Madonnas and Saviours of a more spiritual time. 

A friend of mine who has no money to spend for 
jewels, or silks, or even antique vases, has em- 
ployed his Christmas more wisely than this; and in 
his actions there is more angelic music, than in 
those divine old statues. He filled a large basket 
full of cakes, and went forth into our most misera- 
ble streets, to distribute them among hungry chil- 
dren. How little dirty faces peeped after him, 
round street corners, and laughed from behind open 
gates ! How their eyes sparkled, as they led along 
some shivering barefooted urchin, and cried out, 
"This little boy has had no cake, sir!" Sometimes 
a greedy lad would get two shares by false pre- 
tences; but this was no conclusive proof of total de- 
pravity, in children who never ate cake from Christ- 
mas to Christmas. No wonder the stranger with 
his basket excited a prodigious sensation. Mothers 
came to see who it was that had been so kind to 
their little ones. Every one had a story to tell of 
health ruined by hard work, of sickly children, or 
drunken husbands. It was a genuine outpouring of 
hearts. An honest son of the Emerald Isle stood by, 
rubbing his head, and exclaimed, ''Did my eyes ever 
see the like o' that? A jintleman giving cakes to 
folks he don't knov/, and never asking a bit o' money 
for the same !" 

Alas, eighteen centuries ago, that chorus of good 
will was sung, and yet so simple an act of sympa- 
thizing kindness astonishes the poor ! 

In the course of his Christmas rambles, my friend 
entered a house occupied by fifteen families. In the 
corner of one room, on a heap of rags, lay a woman 
with a babe three days old, without food or fire. In 
another very small apartment was an aged weather- 
beaten woman. She pointed to an old basket of pins 



20 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

and tape, as she said, " For sixteen years I have car- 
ried that basket on my arm, through the streets of 
New- York ; and often have I come home with weary 
feet, without money enough to buy my supper. But 
we must always pay our rent in advance, whether 
we have a loaf of bread to eat, or not." Seeing the 
bed without clothing, the visitor inquired how she 
slept. "Oh the house is very leaky. The wind 
whistles through and through, and the rain and snow 
come driving in. When any of us are sick, or the 
weather is extra cold, we lend our bedding, and some 
of us sit up while others get a nap." As she spoke, 
a ragged little girl came in to say, " Mammy 
wants to know whethter you will lend her your 
fork?" "To be sure, I will, dear," she replied, in 
the heartiest tone imaginable. She would have 
been less generous had her fork been a silver one. 
Her visitor smiled as he said, "I suppose you borrow 
your neighbour's knife in return for your fork?" 
"Oh yes," she replied; "and she is as willing to 
lend as I am. We poor folks must help one anoth- 
er. It is all the comfort we have." The kind-heart- 
ed creature did not know, perhaps, that it was pre- 
cisely such comfort as the angels have in Heaven ; 
only theirs is without the drawback of physical suf- 
fering and limited means. 

I have said that these families, owning a knife and 
fork between them, and loaning their bed-clothes 
after a day of toil, were always compelled to pay their 
rent in advance. Upon adding together the sums 
paid by each for accommodations so wretched, it was 
found that the income from this dilapidated building, 
in a filthy and crowded street, was greater than the 
rent of many a princely mansion in Broadway. This 
mode of oppressing the poor is a crying sin, in our 
city. A benevolent rich man could not make a bet- 
ter investment of capital, than to build tenements for 
the labouring class, and let them on reasonable terms. 

This Christmas tour of observation, has suggested 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORIT. 21 

to my mind many thoughts concerning the present re- 
lations of labour and capital. But I forbear; for I see 
that this path, like every other, '' if you do but follow 
it, leads to the end of the world." I had rather dwell 
on the perpetual effort of divine Providence, to equal- 
ize what the selfishness of man strives to make un- 
equal. 

" As the water from a fountain riseth and sinketh to its level, 

Ceaselessly toileth justice to equalize the lots of men. 

For habit, and hope, and ignorance, and the being but one of a multitude, 

And strength of reason in the sage, and dulness of feeling in the fool, 

And the light elasticity of courage, and the calm resignation of meekness, 

And the stout endurance of decision, and the weak carelessness of apathy, 

And helps invisible but real, and ministerings not unfelt, 

Angelic aid with worldly discomfiture, bodily loss with the soul's gain, 

Secret griefs, and silent joys, thorns in the flesh, and cordials for the spirit, 

Go fur to level all things, by the gracious rule of Compensation." 

If the poor have fewer pleasures than the rich, they 
enjoy them more keenly; if they have not that con- 
sideration in society which brings with it so many 
advantages, they avoid the irksome slavery of con- 
ventional forms ; and what exercise of the be- 
nevolent sympathies could a rich man enjoy, in 
making the most magnificent Christmas gift, com- 
pared with the beautiful self-denial which lends its 
last blanket, that another may sleep? That there 
should exist the necessity for such sacrifices, what 
does it say to us concerning the structure of society, 
on this Christmas day, nearly two thousand years 
after the advent of Him, who said, "God is your 
father, and all ye are brethren?" 



22 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



LETTER II. 



December, 23, 1844. 



I HAVE twice heard Ole Bui. I scarcely dare to 
tell the impression his music made upon me. But, 
casting aside all fear of ridicule for excessive enthu- 
siasm, I will say that it expressed to me more of the 
infinite, than I ever saw, or heard, or dreamed of, in 
the realms of Nature, Art, or Imagination. 

They tell me his performance is wonderfully skil- 
ful ; but I have not enough of scientific knowledge to 
judge of the difficulties he overcomes. I can readily 
believe of him, what Bettina says of Beethoven, that 
"his spirit creates the inconceivable, and his fingers 
perform the impossible." He played on four strings 
at once, and produced the rich harmony of four in- 
struments. His bow touched the strings as if in 
sport, and brought forth light leaps of sound, with 
electric rapidity, yet clear in their distinctness. He 
made his violin sing with flute-like voice, and ac- 
company itself with a guitar, which came in ever 
and anon like big drops of musical rain. All this I 
felt, as well as heard, without the slightest knowl- 
edge of quartetto or staccato. How he did it, I know 
as little as I know how the sun shines, or the spring 
brings forth its blossoms. I only know that music 
came from his soul into mine, and carried it upward 
to worship with the angels. 

Oh, the exquisite delicacy of those notes ! Now 
tripping and fairy-like, as the song of Ariel; now 
soft and low, as the breath of a sleeping babe, yet 
clear as a fine-toned bell; now high, as a lark soar- 
ing upward, till lost among the stars ! 

Noble families sometimes double their names, to 
distinguish themselves from collateral branches of 
inferior rank. I have doubled his, and in memory of 
the Persian nightingale have named him Ole Bulbul. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 23 

Immediately after a deep, impassioned, plaintive 
melody, an Adagio of his own composing, which ut- 
tered the soft, low breathing of a Mother's Prayer, 
rising to the very agony of supplication, a voice in 
the crowd called for Yankee Doodle. It shocked me 
like Harlequin tumbling on the altar of a temple. I 
had no idea that he would comply with what seemed 
to me the absurd request. But, smiling, he drew 
the bow across his violin, and oar national tune rose 
on the air, transfignred, in a veil of glorious varia- 
tions. It was Yankee Doodle in a state of clairvoy- 
ance. A wonderful proof of how the most common 
and trivial may be exalted by the influx of the infinite. 

When urged to join the throng who are following 
this Star of the North, I coolly replied, '' I never like 
lions ; moreover, I am too ignorant of musical science 
to appreciate his skill." Bnt when I heard this man, 
I at once recognized a power that transcends science, 
and which mere sicill may. toil after in vain. I had no 
need of knowledge to feel this subtle influence, any 
more than I needed to study optics to perceive the 
beauty of the rainbow. It overcame me like a mira- 
cle. I felt that my soul was for the first time, bap- 
tized in music ; that my spiritual relations were 
somehow ciianged by it, and that I should hence- 
forth be otherwise than I had been. I was so op- 
pressed with '' the exceeding weight of glory," that 
I drew my breath with difficulty. As I came out of 
the building, the street sounds hurt me with their 
harshness. The sight of ragged boys and importu- 
nate coachmen jarred more than ever on my feelings. 
I wanted that the angels that had ministered to my 
spirit should attune theirs also. It seemed to me as 
if such music should bring all the world into the har- 
monious beauty of divine order. I passed by my 
earthly home, and knew it not. My spirit seemed 
to be floating through infinite space. The next day 
I felt like a person who had been in a trance, seen 
heaven opened, and then returned to earth again. 



24 LETTERS FROPJ NEW-YORK. 

This doubtless appears very excessive in one who 
has passed the enthusiasm of youth, with a frame too 
healthy and substantial to be conscious of nerves, and 
with a mind instinctively opposed to lion-worship. 
In truth, it seems wonderful to myself; but so it was. 
Like a romantic girl of sixteen, I would pick up the 
broken string of his violin, and wear it as a relic, 
with a half superstitious feeling that some mysteri- 
ous magic of melody lay hidden therein. 

I know not whether others were as powerfully 
wrought upon as myself; for my whole being passed 
into my ear, and the faces around me were invisible. 
But the exceeding stillness showed that the spirits of 
the multitude bowed down before the magician. 
While he was playing, the rustling of a leaf might 
have been heard; and when he closed, the tremen- 
dous bursts of applause told how the hearts of thou- 
sands leaped up like one. 

His personal appearancejncreases the charm. He 
looks pure, natural, and vigorous, as I imagine Adam 
in Paradise. His inspired soul dwells in a strong 
frame, of admirable proportions, and looks out in- 
tensely from his earnest eyes. Whatever may be 
his theological opinions, the religious sentiment must 
be strong in his nature ; for Teutonic reverence, 
mingled with impassioned aspiration, shines through 
his honest Northern face, and runs through all his 
music. I speak of him as he appears w^hile he and 
his violin converse together. When not playmg, 
there is nothing observable in his appearance, except 
genuine health, the unconscious calmness of strength 
in repose, and the most imaffected simplicity of dress 
and manner. But when he takes his violin, and 
holds it so caressingly to his ear, to catch the faint 
vibration of its strings, it seems as if " the angels 
were whispering to him." As his fingers sweep 
across the strings, the angels pass into his soul, give 
him their tones, and look out from his eyes, with the 
wondrous beauty of inspiration. His motions sway 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 25 

to the music, like a tree in the winds ; for soul and 
body chord. In fact, "his soul is but a harp, which 
an infinite breath modulates; his senses are bat 
strings, which weave the passing air into rhythm and 
cadence." 

If it be true, as has been said, that a person igno- 
rant of the rules of music, who gives himself up to 
its influence, without knowing whence it comes, 
or whither it goes, experiences, more than the scien- 
tific, the passionate joy of the composer himself, in 
his moments of inspiration, then was I blest in my 
ignorance. While I listened, music was to my soul 
what the atmosphere is to my body ; it was the 
breath of my inward life. I felt, more deeply than 
ever, that music is the highest symbol of the infinite 
and holy. I heard it moan plaintively over the discords 
of society, and the dimmed beauty of humanity. It 
filled me with inexpressible longing to see man at 
one with Nature and with God ; and it thrilled me 
with joyful prophecy that the hope would pass into 
glorious fulfilment. 

With renewed force I felt what I have often said, 
that the secret of creation lay in music. "A voice to 
light gave being." Sound led the stars into their 
places, and taught chemical aflftnities to waltz into 
each other's arms. 

" By one pervading spirit 

Of tones and numbers all things are controlled ; 

As sages taught, where faith was found, to merit 

Initiation in that mystery old." 

Music is the soprano, the feminine principle, the 
heart of the universe. Because it is the voice of 
Love, — because it is the highest type, and aggregate 
expression of passional attraction, therefore \i is infi- 
nite; therefore it pervades all space, and transcends 
all being, like a divine influx. What the tone is to 
the word, what expresion is to the form, what aflec- 
tion is to thought, what the heart is to the head, 

3 m- 



26 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

what intuition is to argument, what insight is to po- 
licy, what rehgion is to philosophy, what holiness is 
to heroism, what moral influence is to power, what 
woman is to man — is music to the universe. Flex- 
ile, graceful, and free, it pervades all things, and is 
limited hy none. It is not poetry, but the soul of 
poetry ; it is not mathematics, but it is in numbers, 
like harmonious proportions in cast iron; it is not 
painting, but it shines through colours, and gives them 
their tone ; it is not dancing, but it laakes all grace- 
fulness of motion ; it is not architecture, but the 
stones take their places in harmony with its voice, 
and stand in "petrified music." In the words of 
Bettina — ''Every art is the body of music, which is 
the soul of every art; and so is music, too, the soul 
of love, which also answers not for its working; for 
it is the contact of divine with human." 

But I must return from this flight among the stars, 
to Ole Bulbul's violin ; and the distance between the 
two is not so great as it appears. 

Some, who never like to admit that the greatest 
stands before them, say that Paganini played the Car- 
nival of Venice better than his Norwegian rival. I 
know not. But if ever laughter ran along the chords 
of musical instrument with a wilder joy, if ever 
tones quarrelled with more delightful dissonance, if 
ever violin frolicked with more capricious grace, than 
Ole Bulbul's, in that fantastic whirl of melody, I envy 
the ears that heard it. 

The orchestra was from Park theatre, the best in 
the city, and their overtures were in themselves a 
rich treat. But it seemed to me as if they were 
sometimes lost in a maze. I fancied, once or twice, 
that the electric brilliancy of his performance bewil- 
dered them; that "panting time toiled after him in 
vain.'^ I should indeed suppose that it was as easy 
to play an accompaniment to the Aurora Borealis, 
as to this Norwegian genius. 

Ole Bui was educated for the ministry, but eifter^ 



I 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 27 

ward studied law, and was admitted to the bar. in 
Italy, the star of his fame first rose resplendent. It 
is said he was at Bologna, trying, under depressing 
circumstances, to compose a piece of music, when 
Madame Rossini chanced to pass by his apartment, 
and her attention was at once arrested by the fasci- 
nating soimds. The director of the Philharmonic 
Society was in distress, in consequence of the failure 
of a promise from De Beriot and JVIalibran. Madame 
Rossini informed him of the treasure she had dis- 
covered. Ole Bulbul was received with great eclat, 
and from that time has played to overflowing houses, 
in the principal cities of France, Italy, Switzerland, 
Germany, Russia, Sweden, Norway, and England. 
He comes to. the New World, because genius craves 
the sympathy of the universe, and delights to pour 
itself abroad like the sunbeams. His reception in 
New- York has exceeded all preceding stars. His 
first audience were beside themselves with delight, 
and the orchestra threw down their instruments, in 
ecstatic wonder. Familiarity with his performance 
brings less excitement, but I think more pleasure. 



LETTER III. 

January 1st, 1844. 

To-day is the first of the month, which receives its 
name from Janus, the two-faced god, who looks be- 
fore and backward, and is therefore a fitting emblem 
of this season of retrospection and hope. For my- 
self, I have passed so many of these mile-stones, on 
my pilgrimage, that I would fain forget their recur- 
rence, if I could; but in New- York I am not allowed 
to be oblivious. Last night one could hear nothing 
but merry glees and snatches of comic songs, as if a 



28 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

hundred theatres had emptied themselves into the 
street. 

The watchmen were out in double force ; a precau- 
tion which is deemed necessary to preserve pubhc 
peace on this noisy anniversary. The notorious Cal- 
hthumpian Band are by these means kept within 
bounds. In former years they played all manner of 
mischievous tricks — such as taking down the sign 
of a cabbage from a provision shop and nailing it 
over a tailor's door ; putting " Coffin- Warehouse " on 
the doctor's walls; "Turning done here," or "Soft 
Soap for sale," on the doors of politicians; "Brim- 
stone, Wholesale or Retail," on certain meeting- 
houses, &c. These pranks became so annoying, that 
the police were required to put a stop to them. This 
redoubtable band fired volleys over the grave of the 
departed year, last night, and marched in the new 
monarch with fife and drum. Being accompanied 
throughout their route by a formidable troop of 
watchmen, they caroused within bounds ; but the 
watch-houses this morning doubtless exhibited some 
funny scenes. This is a somewhat melancholy way 
of being happy; no very great improvement upon 
old Silenus, with his troop of bacchanals and satyrs. 

In London, they welcome the New- Year with a 
merry peal of bells from all the steeples; but the 
most beautiful custom prevails in Germany. An or- 
chestra of thirty or forty of the best musicians go up 
into the steeple of the highest church, and perform 
some grand symphony. Imagine what it would be j 
to hear Haydn or Beethoven poured forth on the 
midnight air, from the church of St. Michael's, in 
Hamburg, which is 480 feet high ! The glorious 
tones flow down, softened by the distance, as if 
they floated over the silvery Rhine by moonlight. 
I never think of it without being reminded of Long- 
fellow's inspired lines so exquisitely sung by the 
Hutchinsons : 



LETTERS FR03I NEW-YORK. 29 

"And from the sky serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star, 
Excelsior." 

I find it not easy to come away from that steeple- 
harmony to this city of turmoil and traffic. I will re- 
fresh myself with a vision of beauty, and she shall 
lead me back. Our merchants think that those 
graceful beings, who 

" Had their haunts by dale or piny mountain, 
Or forest, by slow stream, or pebbly spring," 

have all vanished, long ago. But Nature is filled 
with spirits, as it was in the old Grecian time. One 
of them dwells in our midst, and scatters blessings 
like a goddess. This lovely nymph, for years un- 
counted, reclined in the verdant fields, exchanging 
glances with the stars, which saw themselves m her 
deep blue eyes. In true transcendental style, she re- 
posed quietly in the sunshine, watching the heavens 
reflect themselves in her full urn. Sometimes the 
little birds drank therefrom, and looked upward, or 
the Indian disturbed her placid mirror for a moment 
with his birchen cup. Thus ages passed, and the 
beautiful nymph gazed ever upward, and held her 
mirror to the heavens. But the Spirit which per- 
vades all forms was changing — changing; and it 
whispered to the nymph, "Why liest thou here all 
the day idle] The birds only sip from thy full urn, 
while thousands of human beings suffer for what 
thou hast to spare." Then the nymph held commu- 
nion with the sun, and he answered, "I givre unto 
all without stint or measure, and yet my storehouse 
is full, as at the beginning." She looked at heaven, 
and saw written among the stars, " Lo, I embrace 
all, and thy urn is but a fragment of the great mir- 
ror, in which I reveal myself to all." 

Then the nymph felt heaving aspirations at her 
heart; and she said, "I too would be like the sun- 
shine, and the bright blue heaven.' A voice from 
3# 



!/■ 



30 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

the infinite replied, " He that giveth receive th. Let 
thine urn pour forth forever, and it shall be forever 
full." 

Then the water leaped joyfully, and went on its 
mission of love. Concealed, like good deeds, it went 
all over the city, and baptized it in the name of Pu- 
rity, Temperance, and Health. It flowed in the midst 
of pollution and filth, but kept itself unmixed and 
undefiled, like Arethusa in her path av ay through the 
sea — like a pure and loving heart visiting the abodes 
of wretchedness and sin. The children sport Avith 
its thousand rills; the poor invoke blessings on the 
urn whence such treasures flow; and when the old 
enemy Fire puts forth his forked tongue, the nymph 
throws her veil over him, and, hissing, he goes out 
from her presence. Yet the urn fails not, but over- 
flows evermore. And since the nymph has changed 
repose for action, and self-contemplation for bounte- 
ous outgiving, she has received 

" A veiy shower 
Of beauty for her earthly dower." 

She stands before us a perpetual Fountain of beauty 
and joy, wearing the sunlight for diamonds, and the 
rainbow for her mantle. This magnificent vision of 
herself, as a veiled Water-Spirit, is her princely gift 
to the soul of man ; and who can tell what changes 
may be wrought therewith 7 

Her name, Crotona, hath the old Grecian sound ; 
but greater is her glory than Callirhoe or Arethusa, 
or ^gle, the fairest of the Naiades ; for Crotona man- 
ifests the idea of an age on which rests the golden 
shadow of an approaching millenium — that equal 
diffusion is the only wealth, and working for others 
is the only joy. 

Are you curious to know what conjured up this 
fair vision to my mind 7 On New Year's night, a 
fire broke out in narrow and crowded Gold-street. 
It was soon extinguished ; and on that occasion alone 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 31 

the insurance companies estimate that at least a million 
of dollars' worth of property was probably saved by 
Croton water. Fires, once so terrific in this city, 
are now mere trifles. The alarms are not more than 
one to six, compared with former years. This in- 
dicates that a large proportion was the work of in- 
cendiaries, who have small motive to pursue their 
vocation, now that the flames can be so easily extin- 
guished. Reflecting on these blessings, 1 thought 
how the old Greeks would have Avorshipped Croto- 
na, and what a fair statue they would have chissel- 
led from their Pentelic marble. But after all, what 
had they so beautiful as our Maid of the Mist? 

The money saved, will, to some of your readers, 
be the most interesting fact in connection with Cro- 
tona: for there are men, who, even in the sound of 
Ole Bulbul's violin could recognize nothing more 
than the effect of horse hair passing across tightened 
strings. For the benefit of such, I wish I could have 
counted all the white kid gloves abroad in the street 
to-day. It would have been an interesting item in 
the statistics of trade, and moreover, would have 
served as a census of all the gentlemen, who make 
any pretensions to gentility. 

'^riie New Year's show in the windows was ex- 
ceedingly beautiful this year. The shawls are of 
richer colours, the feathers more delicately tinged, the 
jewelry, cutlery, and crockery, are of more tasteful 
patterns. I look with interest on these continually 
progressive improvements, because they seem to m^e 
significant of a more perfect state of society than we 
have yet known. The outward is preparing itself 
for the advancing idea of the age, as a bride adorns 
herself for her husband. 

The efforts to diminish drunkenness, the earnest- 
ness with which men inquire how crime can be pre- 
vented, poverty abolished, and that meanest of abomi- 
nations, Slavery, swept from the face of a loathing 
earth — all these, and kindred reforms, have a more 



32 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

intimate connexion with the tendency to perfection 
in manufactures and arts, than appears on the sur- 
face; for these are always forms of the ideas of an 
age. The world has not yet seen such architecture, 
or heard such music, as it will see and hear, when 
brute force yields to moral influence, and the brother- 
hood of man is universally acknowledged. 



LETTER IV. 

January 14th, 1844. 

Are you among those who have transient but 
vivid impressions, which seem like recollections of 
an anterior state of existence? The experience of 
my friends is very dissimilar in this matter. Some 
do not comprehend what the question means, and 
shrink from it, as from an indication of insanity. 
Others at once confess that such vague impressions 
have puzzled them from childhood. If not univer- 
sal, they are at least peculiar to no age or nation. 
The Egyptians believed that men were spirits fallen 
from a brighter world ; that a Genius stood at the 
entrance of mortal life, with a Lethean cup in his 
hand, and gave to every soul a deep oblivious 
draught, from which they awoke with recollections 
so confused, that they mistook gleams of the past for 
a light from the future, calling memory hope, and 
experience prophecy. 

"Glimpses of glory ne'er forgot, 
That tell, like gleams on a sunset sea, 
What once has been, what now is not, 
But, oh, what again shall brightly be." 

Plato considered the human soul as a wandering 
exile from the orb of light, and its infinite aspira- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 33 

tions as shadowy recollections of its radiant home. 
Through all succeeding time this idea has been 
re-uttered in poetry and allegory. Wordsworth 

says : 

"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; 
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, 
Hath had elsewhere its setting. 
And Cometh from afar." 

The author of Proverbial Philosophy asks : 

" Have ye not confessed to a feeling, a consciousness strange and vague, 

That ye have gone this way before, and walk again your daily life ? 

Tracking an old routine, and on some foreign strand, 

Where bodily ye have never stood, finding your own footsteps 1 

Hath not at tinaes some recent friend looked out an old familiar? 

Some newest circumstance, or place, teemed as with ancient memories ? 

A startling sudden flash lighteth up all for an instant, 

And then it is quenched in darkness, and leaveth the cold spirit trembling." 

Some people are vaguely impressed with the idea 
of having previously been some other individual, or 
of having formerly belonged to some peculiar nation, 
or era of the world. Mr. Borrow, in his interesting 
book called The Zincali, or Gipseys of Spain, tells us 
that he could remember no time when the mere men- 
tion of a gipsey did not awaken indescribably strange 
and pleasant feelings in his mind. This impulse led 
him to spend years with that singular people, and to 
identify himself completely with their feelings, tastes, 
and habits of life. The gipseys accounted for it, by 
the supposition that the soul which animated his 
body had, at some former time, tenanted that of one 
of their own tribe. 

Perhaps this dim consciousness, impressed on the 
human mind in such various ways, is merely a re- 
sult of the fact that every human being is a repro- 
duction of all that has gone before him, and there- 
fore his soul is filled with echoes from their multi- 
plied voices. Or it may be that the spiritual world, 
in which we are all unconsciously living, while we 
abide in the material world, is more thinly veiled 



34 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

from some souls than others. Perhaps some dwell 
habitually near the mysterious boundary-line of 
clairvoyance. 

Whatever may be the explanation, 1 know full 
well that long before I heard of the Egyptian cup, 
or Plato's theory, I was often haunted with a be- 
wildering consciousness of having lived somewhere 
before I lived here. After comparing notes on this 
subject with a friend, one evening, I wrote ihe follow- 
ing story, fantastic, but not without significance, and 
called it 

THE REMEMBERED HOME. 

A child lay sleeping by the sea-shore. The tide 
was coming in so fast, that the foam of the great 
waves already dashed near the feet of the sleeping 
one. A white gull came riding thither on the top of 
a huge wave. He flew high up in the air, and 
screamed as he flew. 

Whereat the sleeper awoke, and looked around 
him. The place was wild and lonely; but the red, 
round sun was rising up out of the ocean, and as the 
sea-nymphs danced up to meet him, the points of 
their diamond crowns glittered among the green bil- 
lows. 

"Where am 17" said the child. He rubbed his 
eyes, and looked all around with wonder. " How 
came I here 7" he said : "This is not my home !" 

Suddenly, he heard soft sweet voices. They came 
from above his head, and the caves of the rocks 
echoed them. 

Then he remembered that he was a King's son, and 
had once lived in a glorious palace. How had he 
wandered thence 7 Had gipseys stolen him, as he 
slept in his golden cradle 7 Those soft, sweet voices 
sounded like old times. "I heard them in my 
Father's house," said he; "oh, I wish they would 
sing to me again." 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 35 

In the simplicity of his Httle heart, he thought 
some one among the rocks sung in reply to the voices 
in the air. He crept into a cave, and asked, 
" Where is my home? Ye that sing here so sweet- 
ly the song of my Father's house, can ye tell me 
where is my home '?" 

The waves dashed loud against the rocks, but 
there was no other sound; only, as he ceased to 
speak, echo, with hollow tones, answered, " Home." 

"Where is my home?" he cried with passionate 
eagerness; — and echo again answered, " Home." 

Afraid of the loneliness, and of the mocking 
sounds, the child crept out of the cave, and came 
into the morning sunshine. 

He walked on and on, and it seemed to him as if 
the smooth, hard beach would have no end. The 
great waves, as they came tumbling and roaring to 
liis feet, seemed to speak into his heart, with a deep 
loud voice, " Home ! Home !" 

Then the tears rolled down his cheeks ; for he felt 
as if he were wandering alone in a strange place. 

As he went along, crying bitterly, he met a lame 
old woman, who said to him sharply, "Well, John, 
where have you been? A fine piece of work is this, 
for you to walk in your sleep, and so be whimpering 
by the sea-shore at break of day ! I must tie you to 
the bedstead ; and then all the walking you do, you 
must do in your dreams." 

The boy looked timidly at her, as she took him by 
the hand ; and he wondered within himself if she 
were the gipsey that had stolen him. Then he re- 
membered the melodious voices, and the echoes in 
the cave, and how the great thundering waves seem- 
ed to speak into his heart. 

"Why don't you talk?" said the old woman; "I 
should think you would be glad to go home." 

The boy answered, " It sometimes seems to me as 
if I once lived in a beautiful palace, and as if the hut 
where we are going were not my home." 



36 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

" That comes of walking in your sleep," said the 
old woman: ''These are dreams. Come home, and 
go to work ; for dreaming will get you no breakfast." 

So the little boy went to her hut ; and when he 
had milked the cow, and drawn the water, and split 
wood for the oven, she made ready for him a nice 
breakfast. She was very good to him, according to 
her ways ; and when he had done his work, she was 
always willing he should run in the fields to play 
with other children. 

Gradually he forgot the voices in the air, and the 
echoes in the cave, until it seemed to him as if he 
had always lived in the old woman's hut. 

But, a long, long time after, it chanced that the 
cow rambled from her pasture, and John was sent to 
find her. 

He wandered far, into a deep, thick wood ; and 
there, by the side of a running brook, in the midst of 
white shining birch stems, that stood thick around, 
like slender columns of silver, the old cow was lying 
on the grass, with her feet folded under her, peace- 
fully chewing her cud. The full, clear moon shone 
on the brook, and as the waters went rippling along 
over the stones, it seemed as if the moon were broken 
in pieces, and every little wavelet were scampering 
off with a silver fragment. 

The thoughtful lad looked at the moon, fast tend- 
ing to the West; he looked at her image in the 
brook; and he listened to the deep silence of the 
woods. The same sweet voices, that he had heard 
before, seemed to come from the brook ; and the 
notes they sung were like snatches of an old familiar 
tune. Again, he remembered, but more dimly than 
before, that he had once lived in a glorious palace, 
full of light and music. 

He stood leaning against a birch tree, and looked, 
with earnest thoughtful love, at a pale evening prim- 
rose, which grew by the brink of a rivulet. 

By degrees the flower raised itself, and assumed 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 37 

the look of a tall graceful girl, playfully dipping her 
feet in the water. Then the heart of the youth was 
right joyful ! He sprang forward, exclaiming, " Oh, 
it is long, long years since we parted. Do you re- 
member how I tried to kiss your image in the great 
crystal mirror in my father's palace? and how pro- 
voked I was, that ever, as I tried to kiss your image, 
I kissed myself? How glad I am to see you again ! 
Will ^rou lead me to our home !" 

The tall primrose waved her yellow blossoms in 
the evening air, and made no answer. The youth 
stood amazed. Where had the maiden vanished? 
Whence did she come? What meant these recollec- 
tions of a far-oif home ? 

In the deep solitude around, it seemed as if all 
things tried to tell him, if he could but understand 
their language. 

Slowly and sadly, he returned to his hut, driving 
the cow before him. 

The night was beautiful, but solemn; for all was 
dusky light, and star-stillness. The lone traveller 
gazed at the silent sky with earnest glances, and 
still his busy heart repeated the question, "Where is 
my home? Where is the beautiful maiden?" 

It seemed as if the stars might tell him, if they 
would ; but the stars passed into his heart and found 
no voice. 

For a long, long time, he remembered this scene 
with strange distinctness. At early dawn, at even- 
ing twilight, in the deep woods, and by the sounding 
shore, he thought of (hose soft, sweet voices, and the 
beautiful maiden. His heart desired to hear and see 
them again Avith inexpressible longings. 

At last, after weary months, he met them thus: 
he rose before the sun, one bright May morning, and 
went forth to gather violets for the children. In the 
field before him, he saw a beautiful child, with white 
garments and golden hair. He called to her, "Little 
one, you will take cold in the damp grass, with that 
4 



38 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

thin dress !" But the child turned round laughing, 
and threw flowers at his head. As he came nearer 
to her, he perceived that she had thin, transparent 
wings of lovely purple; and sometimes she went 
skimming along the grass, and sometimes she sailed 
round' his head, tossing flowers in his face, and 
singing, 

'• Follow, follow, follow me ! 

Follow me by rock and tree I 

Ever toward the rising sun, 

Follow, follow, lonely one ! 

Where thy home is thou shalt know — 

But long the path, the journey slow. 

Follow, follow, follow me ! 

Follow me by rock and tree ! 

Ever toward the rising sun. 

Follow, follow, lonely one. " 

Thus she went on singing and dancing, and sailing 
in the air. Sometimes she ran before him silently; 
but if he questioned her, she skimmed swiftly away, 
as if she were skating on ice; and he could only see 
the shining of her white garments among the trees in 
the distance. She would wait till he came near, and 
then begin to sing, 

" Follow, follow, follow me!" 

In this way she led him to the top of a high moun- 
tain, and then flew away far up into the sky, and so 
out of sight. The youth gazed upward till he could 
no longer see the waving of her garments, or the glit- 
tering of her wings. "Oh, would that I, too, could 
fly!" he exclaimed. He looked down upon tho 
broad green fields and the winding river, that lay at 
his feet, like emeralds set in silver; and the world 
seemed more lonely than ever. He leaned his head 
upon his hand and sighed. Suddenly he heard a tune- 
ful voice; and it sang the same notes that puzzled him 
on the sea-shore. He turned quickly round, and the 
beautiful maid of the primrose stood before him ! 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 39 

Blushing deeply, and trembling with delight, he 
arose and said, " A pleasant May morning to you, 
fair maiden ! Will you tell me your name?" With 
modest and simple frankness, she replied, " Thanks, 
for this friendly greeting. My name is Mary; and 
my father is Joseph, the miller. You can see our 
mill, if you look where the brook goes rushing down 
the sides of the mountain." 

" Now this is passing strange," thought he; " did 
I not see this very girl rise out of a primrose, by the 
side of the birchen brook ? Is she not, moreover, the 
very one, Avhose image I tried to kiss in my father's 
mirror? " But he kept these thoughts to himself fear- 
ing she would again disappear. He said aloud, " You 
are abroad early this morning, fair maiden." 

She replied, "I came hither for a rare blue flower, 
that my little sister dearly loves. It grows only on the 
mountain top, as if it liked to live near the sky. See, 
my basket is nearly filled with flowers ; but I have 
not found our favourite blue-eye yet." 

The youth eagerly inquired of what flower she was 
in search ; and never was he so pleased, as when he 
found a group of them nodding under the warm shel- 
ter of a rock. They rambled over the mountain, till 
the basket and the maiden's apron were filled with 
flowers ; and then slowly they went down to the cot- 
tage by the mill. The good mother came to the door, 
with clean white cap, and silken kerchief folded over 
her bosom. The youth saluted her respectfully, and 
she, with warm, friendly heart, asked him to come in 
and share their breakfast. As he ate of their fresh 
honey and cakes of sweet meal, it seemed as if he 
had known them for years. 

•'I do not remember the faces of the old miller and 
his wife," said he within himself; "but as for that 
sweet Mary, with her large blue eyes and golden hair, 
I certainly saw her in my father's mirror." 

From that day he went very often to the mill by 
the mountain stream. And as he and Mary stood 



40 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

arm in arm, watching the pure white foam, as it went 
tumbhng and sparlvling over the wheels of the mill, 
or looking up, with large still thoughts, into the silent 
sky, he was often puzzled to know whether his com- 
panion was an earthly maiden, an angel, or a fairy. 
Her voice was so like the voices heard on the sea- 
shore; and she so often sung snatches of songs, that 
seemed like familiar music long forgotten. Still more 
remarkable was the deep expression of her gentle eyes, 
which he said looked like the tones of his father's 
voice. Then that marvellous vision of the prim- 
rose by the brook; and the fair child, with shining 
wings, who first guided him to his Mary. Even the 
blue flowers he gathered on the mountain top perplex- 
ed him, like things seen in a dream. And though the 
beautiful girl assured him she was Mary, the miller's 
daughter, she at times confessed that she, too, seemed 
to remember a far-off radiant home, and, in her 
dreams heard voices singing, 

" Ever toward the rising sun, 
Follow, follow, lonely one ! " 

Then, the maiden really seemed to have fairy gifts ; 
for, in the darkest night and the cloudiest day, where- 
soever the youth saw her, a warm and mellow gleam, 
like sunlight, shone all round her. Ever since he 
had known her, the stars seemed to look, like mild 
eyes, into his heart ; and when he was thinking of 
her, things inanimate found a voice, and spoke to 
him of that far-off glorious home. Once she plucked 
a rose, and gave it to him ; and ever after, even when 
the leaves were withered, whenever he looked at it, a 
smiling face came out from the centre, with gentle, - 
earnest eyes, and golden hair, and, in soft sweet tones, 
said, ' ' Remember Mary ! ' ' 

They often talked together of these things; and 
one day the youth said, "What hinders us, dear Mary, 
that we do not set out on a pilgrimage in search of our 
lost home?" 

With a smile, she answered, "Perhaps it will be 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 41 

our Father's will that I shall go before. If I do, will 
you not dream you hear my voice singing, 

''Follow, follow, lonely one?"' 

Her words made the youth sad in his heart. ''I 
should never find the way, without ?/ow," he said; 
and, as he clasped her hand, the warm tears fell on it. 

Seven days after that, he went to see his Mary; 
and the sorrowing mother told him the Angel of 
Death had been at the mill. Her darling one had 
gone to the spirit-land. 

When that fair body was laid in the ground, John 
covered the place with the blue mountain flowers, 
and there he sat and wept. The good mother spoke 
words of comfort; but he heard her not. Soothing 
voices breathed in the evening air; but he arose and 
stamped on the ground, and tore his hair, and scream- 
ed, "Sing me these songs no longer ! 1 have no 
home. They are all lies — lies that ye utter. Has 
not Mary gone away forever, even as the vision of 
the primrose vanished into thin air? Find some 
other dreaming fool to listen to your song!" 

A grieved and moaning sound was heard, and 
died away slowly — slowly, in the distance. 

The youth rushed down from the mountain, and 
roamed sullenly by the sea-shore. Although it was 
broad sunshine, the sky looked dark, and there was 
no light upon the earth. The pleasant birds were 
gone; crows cawed in the air; and the wagons 
creaked more harshly, since Mary died. 

All at once, a tall figure, with a brass trumpet in 
his hand, walked up and blew a loud blast in his ear. 

"In the name of the Furies, what did you that 
for?" exclaimed the angry youth. 

" Pray excuse me, sir," replied the figure, bowing 
low, "you seem to be creeping along in a gloomy 
way here. Men say you are in search of a lost 
home. Just see what a wondrous balloon I'll pre- 
pare for you !" 



42 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

He put his trumpet to the edge of the sea, and 
blowing strongly, a large, beautiful bubble sailed up- 
ward. 

''There's a travelling equipage!" exclaimed the 
trumpeter. " Spring on that, and you may ride to 
Jupiter, or Saturn, if you choose." 

The youth jumped astride the bubble. It went 
bobbing hither and thither, as the wind carried it; 
and if it seemed likely to fall, the stranger blew lus- 
tily on his trumpet, and sent it aloft again. It kept 
very near the earth ; but the giddy youth thought 
he was high up in the blue; and he felt great con- 
tempt for the pigmies that walked on the ground. 

By and bye, other figures came up beside him, 
riding on bubbles. This irritated him, and he tried 
to kick them out of the way. 

At last, up came a monkey riding on a bubble, 
fiddling with all his might ; and the trumpeter blew 
stoutly to keep him aloft. 

Then came a Chinese juggler, dancing on a bub- 
ble, and tossing about five ivory balls the while. — 
The blasts from the brass trumpet came so thick and 
strong, that he and the monkey kept close alongside 
the youth. 

At this, he exclaimed sharply, " A pretty sight are 
you two, jigging about on soap bubbles, in that ri- 
diculous fashion ! Is it possible you are such fools 
as to think you imitate me, sailing on a rainbow?" 

"Is it a rainbow you call it, sir?" said the monkey, 
with a grin : " it's nothing on earth but a bubble!" 

This made him so angry, that he tried to knock 
them both down ; but the juggler hit him on the fore- 
head with one of his ivory balls, and he tumbled 
down senseless on the beach. 

When he came to himself, he was lying in a cave, 
on a bed of sea- weed. A beautiful airy figure stood 
before him, with a garment of transparent silver 
gauze, through which her graceful form was visible. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 43 

She held toward him a goblet of wine, and, twirling 
herself round like an opera dancer, began to sing : 

" Follow me, follow me, 
To the caves of the sea, 
Where beauty is glowing-. 

And bright wine is flowing ! 
Follow me, follow me, 
To the caves of the sea." 

"T. will follow thee to the end of the world, bean- 
tifal stranger!" exclaimed the youth. 

He tried to rise, but he grew dizzy, and leaned 
against a rock to recover his strength. As he leaned, 
a withered rose fell from his bosom. When he took 
it up, a lovely face, with golden locks, and sad ear- 
nest eyes, looked out from it, and said in low, plain- 
tive tones, "Remember Mary!" 

He kissed it devoutly, then turned to look at the 
gay, dancing stranger. But lo ! her beautiful face 
was twisted into a resemblance of a monkey. She 
grinned, as she said, "It's nothing but a bubble!" 
and so, with awkward hops, went tumbling down 
on four feet, into the hidden recesses of the cave. 

The youth again kissed his precious rose. The 
mild, earnest eyes smiled upon him, and the lips 
said, "Why seek you not your Mary, and your 
home?" 

"It is — it must be so!" he exclaimed. "I have a 
glorious home; and I will seek for it." 

He went forth from the cave. The landscape 
looked bright, the air was balmy, and in the never- 
ceasing song of the sea, had in it some bass notes of 
the old familiar tune. 

The youth remembered how Mary had repeated 
to him, 

" Ever toward the rising sun, 
Follow, follow, lonely one !" 

So he gathered his garments around him, and turn- 
ed toward the East. But presently he heard a crack- 



44 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

ed, shrill voice behind him, calling, "Halloo! hal- 
loo! there!" 

Turning, he saw a thin, wrinkled old man with 
a sharp visage, and a tight little month. He stood 
in an enormously large nautilus shell, as big as a 
boat, and full of gold. He beckoned so earnestly, 
that the youth went back. 

''Stranger, I want yonr help," said the little old 
man, in coaxing tones. " 1 know where are piles and 
piles of gold like this. If you will help me get it, you 
shall have half of it; and that will make you richei 
than a king's son, I can tell yon." 

The youth was tempted by the offer, and promised 
to enter the old man's service. 

A moaning sound, like sad wind-music, was heard 
in the distance ; but it passed away, and he heeded 
it not. 

He went to work with the old man; and they dug 
in dark caves, month after month, and year after 
year. He had scarcely time to glance at the bright 
heavens and the flowery earth. His withered rose 
lay neglected in his chest, and all recollection of his 
home had passed away. 

His chief amusement was to pile up golden coins. 
He said to himself, "When I have a hundred thou- 
sand piles, each six feet high, I will build a palace 
of ivory, and all the floors shall be of pearl, inlaid 
with gold doubloons. My twelve milk-white horses 
shall have harnesses of pure gold, covered with seed 
pearl. Oh, then I shall be perfectly happy !" 

So he digged and heaped, and digged and heaped, 
till he had piled up a hundred thousand pillars, each 
six feet high. 

He of the brass trumpet blew loud blasts, pro- 
claming to all wayfarers that here dwelt a man richer 
than Croesus. All men touched their hats to him. 
Even the Chinese juggler laid his forehead to the 
ground as he passed. 

But all at once, the coins behaved in the oddest 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 45 

fashion. From many of them there suddenly grew 
out wings, so that they looked like golden beetles of 
a new and ungainly shape. They flew away, like 
a swarm of hees, and went skirling through the air, 
klip! klap! klip! klap! clickety, click! 

Then the sharp-faced little old man, who first de- 
coyed him into the boat, tittered and laughed to see 
folks run after the flying gold. The trumpeter laid 
down his trumpet; said he had a pain in his side, 
and should go into a consumption if he blew any 
more. 

John resolved to lock up the rest of his coins, lest 
they, too, should fly away. But the piles all tum- 
bled to ashes beneath his touch. The people round 
him all said they were certainly gold. He tried to be- 
lieve them ; but when he took up a coin, he saw 
nothing but ashes. 

As he meditated on this, one of the flying pieces 
alighted on the table, and began to dance a rigadoon. 
It tumbled over and over, and presently sprang up in 
the form of a monkey, with a face like the wrinkled 
old man of the boat. He turned a somerset in the 
air, and then came up with a dollar on his nose, sing- 
ing, with an ugly grin, "It's nothing on earth but a 
bubble !" 

Provoked beyond endurance, he seized a large stick 
and would have killed the beast; but a venerable 
man, with silver-white hair and a bland countenance, 
held back his arm, and said, "Harm not the poor 
animal; but rather do him good." 

John covered his face and wept, as he said, "All 
things are bubbles ! They told me I should be like 
a king's son, if I heaped up this accursed gold, that 
now gibes, and gibbers, and mocks at me!" 

And wast thou not a king's son in the beginning?" 
said the old man, with solemn tenderness. "What 
could the caves of the earth add to wealth like thine?" 

Then was the wanderer strangely moved, and his 
thoughts were perplexed within him; for there was 



46 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

something in that old man's clear, mild eye, that re- 
minded him of his beloved Mary, and the blue flow- 
ers on the mountain top. 

With a troubled voice he murmured, "The sea 
and the earth, the mountains and the stars all lie to 
me." 

"Not the mountains and the stars, my son," re- 
plied the old man. " But look ! thy enemy is hungry." 

The rich man turned, and saw the Chinese jug- 
gler in rags, leading a half starved monkey. His 
heart was softened, and he took gold and gave him, 
and said, " Buy food for him and thee, and come to 
me again." But the gold that he gave returned into 
his own hand, though they carried it away with 
thankful hearts; and as he laid it upon the table, he 
found that that, and that only, changed not to ashes; 
it remained pure, solid gold. 

The white-haired old man smiled, and said, "All 
is not a bubble. 

That thou keepest thou losest, 
That thou givest thou hast. 

Wilt thou follow me to thy Father's house?" 

He said this persuadingly ; and he that heard, 
again believed, and turned his face toward the East. 
"Shall I carry nothing with me?" he inquired. 
" Thy withered rose, and the gold thou gavest to thy 
enemy," replied the venerable guide. 

Before they had proceeded far, the trumpeter and 
the old man in the boat hallooed after them, and the 
siren of the cave sang her song. 

But they kept bravely on, ever toward the moun- 
tain in the East. The flowers grew thicker in their 
path, and sent up their fragrant breath, an offering 
of love. In the trees seemed to be a multitude of 
harps; and unseen hands played the old familiar 
tunes. 

When they reached the top of the mountain, John 
turned to speak to that kind old man, with solemn, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 47 

friendly voice ; but the child with white raiment and 
shining wings stood before him. She carried in her 
arms long wreaths of the most beautiful flowers ; 
and as she danced round and round him, she twined 
them playfully about his limbs, singing, 

*' Ever toward the rising' sun, 

Follow, follow, lonely one. 

Loud sound the notes of lofty cheer. 

Be strong- of heart— thy Home is near !*' 

But presently, when a broad river came across 
their path, the man stepped shuddering back, saying 
the waters looked cold and deep, and he could not 
wade through them. 

The child dipped her wreath in the water, and 
straightway a glorious rainbow spanned the river. 

On the opposite side appeared Mary, with a rose 
upon her bosom, and a bright revolving star on her 
forehead. She too began to sing, 

' Loud sound the notes of lofiy cheer, 
Be strong of heart — thy Home is near!" 

Then a bright smile lighted up the face of the 
wearied traveller. He folded his arms, and the 
shining child guided him across the rainbow with 
her wreath of flowers. 

On the other side, stood a stately palace of gold and 
pearl ; and when he entered, he beheld the self-same 
crystal mirror, where he, in the far olden time, had 
tried to kiss the image of his Mary. 

The coins he had given his enemy changed to 
golden harps, and made heavenly music. The with- 
ered rose bloomed again in more glorious beauty, and 
the whole air was filled with its fragrant breath, as it 
waved gracefully in the gentle breeze. 

Then John fell on the neck of his beloved, and 
said, " We have found our Father's house. This is 
our Home." 



48 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



LETTER V. 



Jaiiuarj', 20, 1844. 

Inquiring one day for a washerwoman, I was re- 
ferred to a coloured woman, in Lispenard street, by the 
name of Charity Bowery. I found her a person of 
uncommon intelhgence, and great earnestness of 
manner. 

In answer to my inquiries, she told me her his- 
tory, which I will endeavour to relate precisely in 
her own words. Unfortunately, I cannot give the 
highly dramatic effect it received from her expressive 
intonations, and rapid variations of countenance. 

With the exception of some changes of names, I 
repeat, with perfect accuracy, what she said, as 
follows : 

" I am about sixty-five years old. I was born near 
Edenton, North Carolina. My master was very kind 
to his slaves. If an overseer whipped them, he turned 
him away. He used to whip them himself sometimes, 
with hickory switches as large as my little finger. 
My mother nursed all his children. She was reck- 
oned a very good servant; and our mistress made it 
a point to give one of my mother's children to each of 
her own. I fell to the lot of Elizabeth, her second 
daughter. It was my business to wait upon her. Oh, 
my old mistress was a kind woman. She was all 
the same as a mother to poor Charity. If Charit] 
wanted to learn to spin, she let her learn ; if Charity 
wanted to learn to knit, she let her learn ; if Charity 
wanted to learn to weave, she let her learn. I had a 
wedding when I was married; for mistress didn't like 
to have her people take up with one another, without 
any minister to marry them. When my dear good 
mistress died, she charged her children never to sepa- 
rate me and my husband; 'For,' said she, 4f ever 
there was a match made in heaven, it was Charity 



I 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 49 

^nd her husband. ' My husband was a nice good man ; 
and mistress knew we set stores by one another. Her 
children promised they never would separate me from 
my husband and children. Indeed, they used to tell 
me they would never sell me at all ; and I am sure 
they meant what they said. But my young master 
got into trouble. He used to come home and sit lean- 
ing his head on his hand by the hour together, with- 
out speaking to any body. I see something was the 
matter; and I begged of him to tell me what made 
him look so worried. He told me he owed seventeen 
hundred dollars, that he could not pay; and he was 
afraid he should have to go to prison. I begged him 
to sell me and my chidren, rather than to go to jail. 
I see the tears come into his eyes. ' I don't know, 
Charity,' said he ; ' I'll see what can be done. One 
thing you may feel easy about; I Avill never sepa- 
rate you from your husband and children, let what 
will come.' 

"Two or three days after, he come to me, and 
says he; ' Charity, how should you like to be sold to 
Mr. Kinmore?' I told him I would rather be sold 
to him than to any body else, because my husband 
belonged to him. My husband was a nice good man, 
and we set stores by one another. Mr. Kinmore 
agreed to buy us; and so I and my children went there 
to live. He was a kind master; but as for mistress 

Kinmore, she was a divil! Mr. Kinmore died 

a iew years after he bought us ; and in his Will he 
give me and my husband free; but I never knowed 
anything about it, for years afterward. I don't know 
how they managed it. My poor husband died, and 
never knowed that he was free. But it's all the same 
now. He's among the ransomed. He used to say, 
'Thank God, it's only a little way home; I shall soon 
be with Jesus.' Oh, he had a fine old Christian 
heart." 

Here the old woman sighed deeply, and remained 
silent for a moment, while her right hand slowly rose 
5 



50 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

and fell upon her lap, as if her thoughts were mourn- 
fully busy. At last she resumed. 

"Sixteen children I've had, first and last; and 
twelve I've nursed for my mistress. From the time 
my first baby was born, I always set my heart upon 
buying freedom for some of my children. I thought 
it was of more consequence to them, than to me ; for I 
was old, and used to being a slave. But mistress 
Kinmore would n't let me have my children. One 
after another — one after another — she sold 'em away 
from me. Oh, how many times that woman's broke 
my heart !" 

Here her voice choaked, and the tears began to 
flow. She wiped them quickly with the corner of 
her apron, and continued: "I tried every way I could, 
to lay up a copper to buy my children; but I found it 
pretty hard ; for mistress kept me at work all the 
time. It was 'Charity! Charity! Charity!' from 
morning till night. ' Charity, do this,' and 'Charity, 
do that' 

"I used to do the washings of the family; and 
large washings they were. The public road run right 
by my little hut; and I thought to myself, while I 
stood there at the wash-tub, I might, just as well as 
not, be earning something to buy my children. So I 
set up a little oyster-board ; and when anybody come 
along, that wanted a few oysters and a cracker, I left 
my wash-tub and waited upon him. When I got a 
little money laid up, I went to my mistress and tried 
to buy one of my children. She knew how long my 
heart had been set upon it. and how hard I had work- 
ed for it. But she wouldn't let me have one ! — She 
iDoiddaH let me have one ! So, I went to work again ; 
and set up late o' nights, in hopes I could earn enough 
to tempt her. When I had two hundred dollars, I 
went to her again ; but she thought she could find a 
better market, and she wouldn't let me have one. At 
last, what do you think that woman did \ She sold 
me and five of my children to the speculators ! Oh, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 51 

how I did feel, when I heard my children was sold to 
the speculators ! " 

1 knew very well that by speculators the poor mo- 
ther meant men whose trade it is to buy up coifles of 
slaves, as they buy cattle for the market. 

After a short pause, her face brightened up, and 
her voice suddenly changed to a gay and sprightly 
tone. 

"Surely, ma'am, there's always some good comes 
of being kind to folks. While I kept my oyster-board, 
there was a thin, peaked-looking man, used to come 
and buy of me. Sometimes he would say, ' Aunt 
Charity, (he always called me Aunt Charity,) you 
must fix me up a nice little mess, for I feel poorly to- 
day.' I always made something good for him ; and 
it he didn't happen to have any change, I always 
trusted him. He liked my messes mighty well. — 
Now, who do you think that should turn out to be, 
but the very speculator that bought me ! He come 
to me, and says he, 'Aunt Charity (he always called 
me Aunt Charity,) you've been very good to me, 
and fixed me up many a nice little mess, when I've 
been poorly; and now you shall have your freedom 
for it, and I'll give you your youngest child.' " 

"That was very kind," said I; "but I wish he 
had given you all of them." 

With a look of great simplicity, and in tones of 
expostulation, the slave-mother replied, "Oh, he 
couldn't afford that^ you know." 

"Well," continued she, "after that, 1 concluded 
I'd come to the Free States. But mistress had one 
child of mine ; a boy about twelve years old. I hai 
always set my heart upon buying Richard. H3 
was the image of his father; and my husband was 
a nice good man ; and we set stores by one another. 
Besides, I was always uneasy in my mind about 
Richard. He was a spirity lad ; and I knew it was 
very hard for him to be a slave. Many a time, I 



52 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

have said to him, ' Richard, let what will happen, 
never lift your hand against your master.' 

"But I knew it would always be hard work for 
him to be a slave. I carried all my money to my 
mistress, and told her I had more due to me; and if 
all of it wasn't enough to buy my poor boy, I'd work 
hard and send her all my earnings, till she said I had 
paid enough. She kneiv she could trust me. She 
knew Charity always kept her word. But she was 
a hard-hearted woman. She would n't let me have 
my boy. With a heavy heart, I went to work to 
earn more, in hopes I might one day be able to buy 
him. To be sure, I didn't get much more time, 
than I did when I was a slave; for mistress was al- 
ways calling upon me ; and I did n't like to disoblige 
her. I wanted to keep the right side of her, in hopes 
she'd let me have my boy. One day, she sent me of 
an errand. I had to wait some time. When I come 
back, mistress was counting a heap of bills in her 
lap. She was a rich woman, — she rolled in gold. 
My little girl stood behind her chair; and as mistress 
counted the money, — ten dollars, — twenty dollars, — 
fifty dollars, — I see that she kept crying. I thought 
may be mistress had struck her. But when I see 
the tears keep rolling down her cheeks all the time, 
I went up to her, and whispered, ' What's the mat- 
ter?' She pointed to mistress's lap and said, ' Bro- 
der's money ! Broder's money !' Oh, then I under- 
stood it all ! I said to mistress Kinmore, ' Have you 
sold my boy?' Without looking up from counting 
her money, she drawled out, 'Yes, Charity; and I 
got a great price for him !'" [Here the coloured wo- 
man imitated to perfection the languid, indolent tone 
of Southern ladies.] 

"Oh, my heart was too full! She had sent me 
away of an errand, because she didn't want to be 
troubled with our cries. I hadn't any chance to see 
my poor boy. I shall never see him again in this 
world. My heart felt as if it was under a great load 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 53 

of lead. I couldn't speak my feelings. I never spoke 
them to her, from that day to this. As I went out 
of the room, I lifted up my hands, and all I could 
say was, ' Mistress, how could you do it?' " 

The poor creature's voice had grown more and 
more tremulous, as she proceeded, and was at length 
stifled with sobs. 

After some time, she resumed her story; '' When 
my boy was gone, I thought I might sure enough as 
well go to the Free States. But mistress had a little 
grandchild of mine. His mother died when he was 
born. I thought it would be some comfort to me, if 
I could buy little orphan Sammy. So I carried all 
the money I had to my mistress again, and asked 
her if she would let me buy my grandson. But she 
wouldn't let me have him. Then I had nothing 
more to wait for : so I come on to the Free States. 
Here I have taken in washing; and my daughter is 
smart at her needle; and we get a very comfortable 
living." 

" Do you ever hear from any of your children?" 
said I. 

" Yes, ma'am, I hear from one of them. Mistress 
Kinmore sold one to a lady, that comes to the North 
every summer; and she brings my daughter with 
her." 

" Don't she know that it is a good chance to take 
her freedom, when she is brought to the North ?" 
said I. 

" To be sure she knows ^Aa/," replied Charity, with 
significant emphasis. "But my daughter is pious. 
She's member of a church. Her mistress knows she 
wouldn't tell a lie for her right hand. She makes 
her promise on the Bible, that she won't try to run 
away, and that she will go back to the South with 
her ; and so, ma'am, for her honour and her Chris- 
tianity's sake, she goes back into slavery." 

" Is her mistress kind to her?" 

"Yes, ma'am; but then every body likes to be 
5^ 



54 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

free. Her mistress is very kind. She says I may 
buy her for four hundred dollars ; and that's a low 
price for her.- -two hundred paid down, and the rest 
as we can earn it. Kitty and I are trying to lay up 
enough to buy her." 

" What has become of your mistress Kinmore? 
Do you ever hear from her?" 

" Yes, ma'am, I often hear from her ; and sum- 
mer before last, as I was walking up Broadway, with 
a basket of clean clothes, who should I meet but my 
old mistress Kinmore ! She gave a sort of a start, 
and said, in her drawling way, ' O, Charity, is it 
you V Her voice sounded deep and hollow, as if it 
come from under the ground ; for she was far gone 
in a consumption. If I wasn't mistaken, there was 
a something about here^ (laying her hand on her 
heart,) that made her feel strangely when she met 
poor Charity. Says I, ' How do you do, mistress 
Kinmore? How does little Sammy do?' (That 
was my little grandson, you know, that she wouldn't 
let me buy.") 

" ' Fm poorly. Charity,' says she ; ' very poorly. 
Sammy's a smart boy. He's grown tall, and tends 
table nicely. Every night I teach him his prayers.' " 
The indignant grandmother drawled out the last 
word in a tone, which Fanny Kemble herself could 
not have surpassed. Then suddenly changing both 
voice and manner, she added, in tones of earnest dig- 
nity, "Och! I couldn't stand ^/i6/^.' Good morning, 
ma'am !" said I. 

I smiled, as I inquired whether she had heard from 
Mrs. Kinmore, since. 

" Yes. ma'am. The lady that brings my daughter 
to the North every summer, told me last Fall she 
didn't think Mistress Kinmore could live long. When 
she went home, she asked me if I had any message 
to send to my old mistress. I told her I had a mes- 
sage to send. Tell her, says I, to prepare to meet 
poor Charily at the judgment seat.'' 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 55 

I asked Charity if she had heard any further 
tidings of her scattered children. The tears came to 
her eyes. "I found out that my poor Richard was 
sold to a man in Alabama. A white gentleman, 
who has been very kind to me, here in New- York, 
went to them parts lately, and brought me back 
news of Richard. His master ordered him to be 
flogged, and he wouldn't come up to be tied. 'If 
you don't come up, you black rascal, I'll shoot you,' 
said his master. 'Shoot away,' said Richard; 'I 
won't come to be flogged.' His master pointed a 
pistol at him, — and, — in two hours my poor boy was 
dead ! Richard was a spirity lad. I always knew 
it was hard for him to be a slave. Well, he's free 
now. God be praised, he's free now ; and I shall 
soon be Avith him." -^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

In the course of my conversations with this interest- 
ing woman, she told me much about the patrols, 
who, armed with arbitrary power, and frequently in- 
toxicated, break into the houses of the coloured peo- 
ple at the south, and subject them to all manner of 
outrages. But nothing seemed to have excited her 
imagination so much as the insurrection of Nat Tur- 
ner. The panic that prevailed throughout the Slave 
States on that occasion, of course reached her ear in 
repeated echoes ; and the reasons are obvious why it 
should have awakened intense interest. It was in 
fact a sort of Hegira to her mind, from which she 
was prone to date all important events in the history 
of her limited world. 

"On Sundays," said she, "I have seen the ne- 
groes up in the country going away under large oaks, 
and in secret places, sitting in the woods, with spell- 
ing books. The brightest and best men were killed 
in Nat's time. Such ones are always suspected. All 
the coloured folks were afraid to pray, in the time of 
the old Prophet Nat. There was no law about it ; 
but the whites reported it round among themselves, 
that if a note was heard, we should have some dread- 



56 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

ful punishment. After that, the low whites would 
fall upon any slaves they heard praying, or singing 
a hymn; and they often killed them, before their 
masters or mistresses could get to them." 

I asked Charity to give me a specimen of their 
slave hymns. In a voice cracked with age, but still 
retaining considerable sweetness, she sang : 

" A few more beatings of the wind and rain, 
Ere the winter will be over — 

Glory, Hallelujah ! 

Some friends has gone before me, — 
I must try to go and meet them — 

Glory, Hallelujah ! 

A few more risings and settings of the sun, 
Ere the winter will be over — 

Glory, Hallelujah ! 

There's a better day a coming — 
There's a better day a coming — 

Oh, Glory, Hallelujah !" 

With a very arch expression, she looked up, as 
she concluded, and said, '' They would n't let us 
sing that. They would n't let us sing that. They 
thought we was going to ?^ise, because we sung 'bet- 
ter days are coming.' " 

I shall never forget poor Charity's natural elo- 
quence, or the spirit of Christian meekness and for- 
bearance, which so beautifully characterized her ex- 
pressions. She has now gone where " the wicked 
cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 67 



LETTER VI. 

January 26, 1844. 

I WENT, a few days ago, to hear Professor Gou- 
raud's introductory lecture on Phreno-Mnemotech- 
ny ; a new system of Mnemonics, which promises tc 
form a memory of incalculable powers of retention, 
in ten lessons, of an hour each. The Tabernacle 
was crowded ; for men are always desirous to find 
some rail-road to learning, some machine for the 
manufacture of intellect. 

The lecturer having been much incommoded by a 
defective memory in early life, and having for years 
given his attention almost exclusively to this subject, 
very naturally exaggerates its importance. Valuable 
as memory is, it could not, even in the highest state 
of cultivation, ever be what he styled it: " the lever 
of Archimedes in science, literature, and art;" '-the 
supreme power of the mind;" ''the source from 
which Phidias, Michael Angelo, Mozart, &c., mainly 
derived their immortal fame." 

I believe he brought forward everything that could 
be brought, to exalt the praises of memory, except 
the testimony of mythology. But if he had recollect- 
ed to state that the Nine Muses had for their mother, 
Mnemosyne, Goddess of Memory, he probably would 
have forgotten to state that they likewise had Jupiter 
for their father. For though he would doubtless ac- 
knowledge that there is a transcendent power in the 
mind, which uses memory merely to give form to its 
divinity, yet, in the zeal of his theory, he seems to 
lose sight of the fact. He has the outward world 
safely and systematically packed in his Mnemonic 
warehouse, and rejoices over it, as a merchant does 
over the gold in his iron safe. They are both in 
danger of forgetting that their treasures are not 
wealth, but only the representatives of wealth 



58 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Among the examples of extraordinary natural 
memory, the lecturer first cited Adam; because he 
remembered the names of '• all the beasts of the field, 
and all the fowls of the air." But how this could be 
an act of memory, I could not imagine ; for, accord- 
ing to the account, Adam gave the names, which of 
course had no existence till they fell from his own 
lips. 

Every outward form has a correspondence with 
some variation of thought or feeling in the soul of 
man, and from that, thought or affection derives its 
existence. This science of correspondence is no freak 
of imagination ; it is governed by laws as fixed and 
universal as the laws of chemistry or mathematics. 
At the present period of the world, men preserve a 
glimmering recollection of this science in mere frag- 
ments of metaphor, from which we may imagine 
somewhat of the beauty of the harmonious whole, as 
the Elgin marbles indicate the perfection of the Par- 
thenon. But Adam doubtless saw himself in Na- 
ture, as we see our faces in a mirror. Therefore, 
when the animals passed before him, he at once 
recognized the idea or feeling, of which they were 
the outward form ; and the idea or feeling vibrated 
as its image passed, and thus gave birth to language. 
Thus do the little points on the barrel of a music-box 
touch their appropriate keys, and speak in melody. 
This universal and intimate relation of the spiritual 
with the natural world, from which language flows, 
with "its ^olian-harp accompaniment of tones," 
was pre-arranged by the Infinite Mind, as the tune 
of the music-box, was arranged by the composer. 
When Adam named the things of earth, I apprehend 
he made no more effort of memory, than do the 
points on the barrel of a music-box. 

Among the examples of wonderful natural mem- 
ory, the lecturer cited Cyrus, who knew the name 
of every soldier in his army ; Themistocles, who 
could call every citizen of Athens by name ; Caesar, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 59 

who could dictate to six secretaries at once, in as 
many different languages ; Cleopatra, who could 
converse with ease in thirty or forty dialects of the 
East ; Hortensius, the orator, who could go to an 
auction-room, listen to the day's sales, and the next 
day repeat the price and purchaser of every arti- 
cle; and Crehillon, who composed all his works in 
his mind, without the aid of pen and ink. But of all 
the characters he mentioned, none so much excited 
my pity, as the Roman, who remembered, word for 
word, all the public discourses he had ever heard. 
I felt for him the most profound compassion; some- 
what alleviated by the idea that he was not born in 
this republic, and carried no Fourth of July orations 
with him to another world. 

Professor Gouraud related an anecdote of Voltaire, 
which may be new to some readers. While he was 
at the court of Prussia, he announced his intention to 
read a new poem in the presence of Frederick and his 
courtiers. The time arrived, and preparations for the 
recital were made with much pomp and circumstance. 
Voltaire came in full dress, with his precious MS. 
written on vellum, and tied with rose-coloured ribbon. 
He read it in his best style, and waited for the ex- 
pected applause. Frederick very coolly remarked 
that the poet had been playing them a trick : that the 
poem had been read to him months ago, by an officer 
of his army, who had been so unfortunate as to lose 
the MS. Voltaire, mortified and indignant, denied 
the possibility of such a thing. The officer was ac- 
cordingly called, and being asked whether he had 
yet found his MS., he answered, no. When asked to 
recite such portions of it as he could recollect, he re- 
peated, word for word, from beginning to end, the 
poem which had just been read. Overwhelmed with 
vexation and shame, Voltaire was about to rush 
from the room ; but Frederick recalled him, saying, 
"Excuse me, my friend, this is all a hoax. I heard 
that an officer of my army boasted he could remem- 



60 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

ber a book, by hearing it once read. In order to test 
his powers, I placed him behind a curtain while you 
recited your poem, and he has recollected every syl- 
lable." The explanation was of course satisfactory, 
and the poet cordially shook hands with his daguer- 
reotype. The lecturer regretted that the name of 
this prodigy of memory had not been preserved. But 
what would his name express to us 7 It would say 
no more than a row of nails from his boot. He 
would be merely a ghost ivlth a shadow, instead of 
without one. 

The lecturer told us that Pope Clement VI. being 
knocked down in a riot in the streets of Rome, and 
taken up senseless, recovered with miraculous 
powers of memory ; insomuch, that he remembered 
all he heard or read, without being able to compre- 
hend how he did it. This singular effect of disease 
reminded me of the well-known case, related by Col- 
eridge, of a very ignorant servant girl, who, in the 
paroxysms of fever, recited page after page of Homer, 
iEschylus, Virgil, &c., with great fluency and cor- 
rectness. A close investigation into the phenomenon 
led to the discovery that she had, in her childhood, 
lived with a learned old clergyman, who was in the 
daily habit of reading Greek and Latin authors aloud, 
as he passed and repassed the room where she was 
at work. The words, altogether unassociated with 
ideas, had impressed themselves upon her mind, and 
sickness by some unknown agency, made them visi- 
ble. Coleridge suggests that it is thus every word 
will be brought to judgment hereafter. 

Drunkenness plays strange pranks with the memo- 
ry. With all its beastliness, there is something trans- 
cendental about it. It rends away the veil in which 
men walk disguised, and compels them to speak in 
vino Veritas. It likewise removes one curtain from 
the memory, while it draws another. The sot for- 
gets what he did when he was sober, but when drunk 
again, he recollects all that occurred in previous 



LETTERS FROr.l NEW-YORK. 61 

drunkenness. If he loses a package while intoxi- 
cated, the only way to gain knowledge of it is to get 
him drunk again. Some of the phenomena of ani- 
mal magnetism are strikingly similar to this. In 
fact, disease is not unfrequently the cause of wonder- 
ful manifestations of memory, though sometimes 
merely of words, and sometimes merely of figures. 

Printed programs were handed to the audience, 
containing chronological tables, diameters and dis- 
tances of the planets, tables of latitude and longitude, 
and miscellaneous facts, many of them apparently 
chosen merely for their oddity, as the most unlikely 
things to be remembered by the natural process. The 
simuUaneous opening of thousands of these papers 
sounded like a driving shower among the leaves of a 
forest ; and appealing thus to my imagination, it af- 
forded momentary relief to the stifling atmosphere of 
the crowded room. From tliese papers, the audience 
selected questions at will, which were answered by 
the professor's pupils, with wonderful rapidity. One 
young lady filled a large blackboard with arithmeti- 
cal figures, as fast as her hand could move ; and 
had there been time enough, she might, apparently, 
have gone on to cover the walls of the entire room 
with her interminable rows; yet when these figures 
were compared with those printed in the program, 
not one of them was out of place. A little boy and 
girl, about eight years old, answered, very promptly, 
a great variety of puzzling questions, about the diam- 
eter and distances of the planets, and the date of re- 
markable events. These questions were chosen in- 
discriminately, and answered accurately, though the 
childrcLi had had but few hours instruction. One 
young man seemed able to repeat all dates. He 
could tell when Jacob dreamed his dream, when the 
whale swallowed Jonah, when Samuel hewed Agag 
to pieces, when Zimri began to reign, when Tobit 
was persecuted by his ill-tempered wife, and many 
other things, equally important and interesting, set 
6 



62 LETTERS FROM NEW-YOfeK. 

forth in the program. Professor Gouraud assured 
his audience that all this vohime of dates, facts, and 
figures, might be learned, as if by magic, by any one 
who would join his classes : that by spending on 
them about as much time as it would take to read 
them once, we should wake up in the morning, and 
find them all in our heads. This suggestion made my 
brow begin to ache. I found something extremely 
uncomfortable in the idea of having my intellectual 
apartments cluttered" up with ghosts of Agag, Zimri, 
Jehoiakim, Tobit's quarrelsome wife, and the like. I 
felt something of the spirit of Bettina, when she said, 
"I would not ask my teacher who Nimrod was, for 
fear he should tell me ; and it would be so useless to 
know." 

You will readily imagine that I am not fitted to 
be an enthusiast in Mnemonics. In the first place, I 
never could help remembermg all I wanted to re- 
member, and a great deal more ; and in the next 
place, the outward interests me but little, except so 
far as I perceive its inward significance. If I could 
ascertain, or even imagine, what place Mrs. Tobit's 
scolding has among the great powers of Nature, or 
what link it supplies in the chain of causation, I 
should feel interested in her. But why should I care 
to know the day and the year when a shadow from 
a magic lanthorn danced on the wall '] 

Do not understand me as underrating the import- 
ance of statistics, or the exceeding usefulness of mem- 
^ ory. As the greatest soul cannot perform its func- 
tions well, except through the medium of a healthy 
body, so the inspiration which teaches all discoveries 
and inventions in science, art, and literature, needs 
the medium of a well arranged memory. But mem- 
ory is only a vessel into which the inspiration is 
poured ; merely a cup to contain the glowing wine. 

Professor Gouraud's attention was originally drawn 
to the subject by the deficiency of his own memory. 
When young, he had the strongest desire for knovvl- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 63 

edge, but could not possibly retain what he learned. 
His parents, of course, would not venture to knock 
him on the head, like Pope Clement Yl, for fear 
they should not happen to hit the right place; so 
they endeavoured to help him with such systems of 
Mnemonics as were then known. One of these, 
called the System of Localities, consists in asso- 
ciating the fact, or date, with some article of furni- 
ture in the house, as a chair, or a picture. This 
process fills up the mind like an auction room, and 
seems somewhat similar to that of the woman, who 
caused her stairs to be pulled down and re-built, to 
make the figure of her carpet come in the right place. 
A man once prepared, after this fashion, a speech he 
was about to deliver; but the building marked with 
his localities burned down the night before, and his 
memory was gone. The next system proposed was 
that of Animalization, by which historical facts were 
associated with animals. Thus events in the life of 
Solomon would be recalled by previous associations 
with various parts of an elephant ; the elephant being 
the wisest of animals. The history of Athens would 
be associated with an owl, the sacred bird of Athens; 
that of Rome with the eagle, which was her national 
emblem, &:c. This menagerie in the head took up 
more room than the ideas they were intended to 
fasten, and the system was soon dismissed, as use- 
less to mankind. The German, Feinagle, invented 
a new art of memory, which was afterward improved 
upon by Dr. Gray. In his " Memoria Technica" he 
proposes to make certain changes in the names of 
persons, places, &c., in such a way that the words 
shall signify also certain numbers^ according to tables 
previously drawn up. 

Professor Gouraud does not explain what his system 
is ; but he says the principle on which it is based was 
suggested to his mind by the theory of Feinagle and 
Gray. He did not take their system, and remove ob- 
structions from its application; he merely received 



64 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

a suggestion from it. The light they afforded was 
to him as the drifting sea- weed to Columbus; not 
a thing to land upon, but showing the vicinity 
of land. He has been labouring upon it four years, 
and thinks he has now brought it to absolute per- 
fection. 

The results, as exhibited to the public, are certain- 
ly surprising ; especially on his own once defective 
memory, which now seems to be an encyclopedia of 
science and art. 

He asserts that the system can be successfully ap- 
plied to every branch of human knowledge, even to 
the acquisition of languages. He believes it was pre- 
arranged by God, and that He intended man should 
remember all things by just this process; but we, in 
our blundering stupidity, have been nearly six thou- 
sand years finding it out. 

As Phrenology is the democracy of metaphysics, 
and Daguerreotype, the democracy of drawing, so 
Mnemonics appears to be, emphatically, the democ- 
racy of learning. It levels all distinctions. The ig- 
norant slave, or the child of eight years old, can tell 
all about the planets, as accurately as the best 
astronomer and mathematician ; though they know 
nothing of the laws by which the answer was 
obtained. 

The Professor urged, as a recommendation of the 
system, that the acquisition of learning by this pro- 
cess required no serious effort of the mind. But this 
seemed to me a very grave objection to it. Knowl- 
edge of external things is doubtless extremely valua- 
ble; and strictly speaking, no fact is unimportant. 
But, compared with the strength of mind gained in 
acquiring them, the facts themselves dwindle into in- 
significance. The soul is invigorated by effort, as 
the muscles of a gold-beater's arm grow strong by 
exertion. 

Memory which developes itself by natural and 
healthy growth, is formed by associating a fact with 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 65 

Other facts, and all facts with ideas and principles ; 
and to such a mind, facts always suggest ideas and 
principles. Thus a philosophic memory is formed, 
while imagination is stimulated, and the reflective 
powers invigorated. The very best system of arti- 
ficial memory must be wanting in this principle of 
flexibility and growth. So far as it enables the mind 
to dispense with labour, it is a serious injury. The 
process may, however, be very convenient in the de- 
tails of business; though Raphaels, Mozarts, and 
Newtons, cannot grow by steam, even of forty-horse 
power. 

P. S. Speaking of memory, reminds me of Dick- 
ens's new story, The Christmas Carol. The news- 
papers announce it merely as "a ghost story," and 
scarcely utter a word in its praise. If it had been 
published before the author wounded our national 
vanity so deeply, it would have met quite a different 
reception ; for in fact it is a most genial production, 
one of the sunniest bubbles that ever floated on the 
stream of light literature. The ghost is nothing 
more or less than memory. 

About this Carol, I will tell you "a merry toy," 
as Jeremy Taylor was wont to say. Two friends of 
mine proposed to give me a New-Years present, and 
asked me to choose what it should be. I had certain 
projects in my head for the benefit of another person, 
and I answered that the most acceptable gift would 
be a donation to carry out my plans. One of the 
friends, whom I addressed, was ill pleased with my 
request. She either did not like the object, or she 
thought I had no right thus to change the appropria- 
tion of their intended bounty. She at once said, in a 
manner extremely laconic and decided, " I won't give 
one cent." Her sister remonstrated, and represented 
that the person in question had been very unfortu- 
nate. "There is no use in talking to me," she re- 
plied: "I won't give one cent." 
6=^ 



66 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Soon after, a neighbour sent in Dickens's Christmas 
Carol, saying it was a new work, and perhaps the 
ladies would like to read it. When the story was 
carried home, the neighbour asked, "How did you 
like it 7" "I have not much reason to thank you for 
it," said she; '-for it has cost me three dollars." "And 
pray how is that?" "1 was called upon to contribute 
toward a charitable object, which did not in all re 
spects meet my approbation. I said I wouldn't giv 
one cent. Sister tried to coax me; but I told her i 
was of no use, for I wouldn't give one cent. But 
have read the Christmas Carol, and now I am ohliget. 
to give three dollars." 

It is indeed a blessed mission to write books which 
abate prejudices, unlock the human heart, and make 
the kindly sympathies flow freely. 



LETTER YII. 

February 14, 1844. 

To-day is St. Valentine's day, the observance of 
which is said to have originated among the Romans, 
who, on a festival of Juno, on the 14ih of February, 
put into a box the names of young women to be 
drawn out by young men. The Roman Catholics, 
according to their usual policy of transferring to their 
church festivals endeared to the populace by long 
usage, gave the day to St. Valentine, instead of Juno. 
This saint was a Roman bishop, who suftered martyr- 
dom under the Emperor Claudius II., and was after- 
ward canonized. How he came to be the peculiar 
patron of love-tokens, it is not easy to ascertain. It 
probably was an accident that the day set apart for 
him in the Catholic calendar happened to come on the 
14th of February. Whatever gave him this distinc- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 67 

tion. his name is now associated with love and court- 
ship throughout Christendom; and very curious are 
some of the old customs observed in honour of St. 
Valentine. 

Within the few last years, the observance of this 
festival has been extending in New- York, and it has 
now become quite a showy affair. Valentines, en- 
graved for the occasion, are displayed in the shop 
windows in great prolusion. The styles are various ; 
from the most beautiful and tasteful devices, valued 
at seven or eight dollars, down to the most comic and 
grotesque, for fifty, or twenty-five cents. In some, 
the paper is edged with an exquisite imitation of the 
finest Brabant lace ; and in the corner, a smiliug 
Cupid rides on a butterfly, or lies partially concealed 
in a richly-coloured rose. Others are edged with 
arabesques of gold, on an ultra-marine ground; and 
the letters of the amorous epistle are variously colour- 
ed, like the gorgeous old illuminated MSS. In some, 
the image of Cupid sleeps on delicate white satin; in 
others, he is hidden under a network of silvered or 
gilded paper, cut so fine, that when raised up, the 
little god seems enclosed in a cage of cobwebs. 
Among the comic ones, I noticed a very fat man, 
with a blowsy- faced Cupid shooting roast-beef into 
his mouth. To-day, there is a strong reinforcement 
of carriers, and a great crowd round the post-office. 
Forty thousand valentines, it is said, pass through 
in the course of the day. To-night, a club of bache- 
lors, according to annual custom, give the ladies a 
brilliant ball, at the Astor House. 

" Hail to thy returning festival, old Bishop Valen- 
tine !" says Charles Lamb. " Great is thy name in 
the rubric, thou venerable arch-flarnen of Hymen ! 
Immortal go-between ! who and what manner of 
person art thou 7 Art thou but a name, typifying 
the restless principle which impels poor humans to 
seek perfection in union 7 Or wert thou indeed a 



68 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

mortal prelate, with thy tippet and thy rochet, thy 
apron on, and decent lawn sleeves ? Mysterious 
personage ! Like unto thee assuredl}^ there is no 
other mitred father in the calendar. Thou comest 
attended with thousands and tens of thousands of 
little Loves, and the air is " brushed with the hiss of 
rustling wings ;" singing Cupids are thy choristers ; 
and instead of the crosier, the mystical arrow is 
borne before thee." 

In London, it is said that two hundred thousand 
letters, beyond the usual daily average, annually 
pass through the post-office on St. Valentine's day. 
" Two hundred thousand pence paid for foolery!" 
exclaims an old gentleman. To which the daughter 
replies, " Why then just two hundred thousand peo- 
ple must be in love with each other." "Ah child, 
thou art a foolish reckoner. All Valentines are not 
in love. Instead of bleeding hearts transfixed with 
arrows, many of them would do well to choose for 
their emblem a fox eating a silly goose, or a puppy 
munching the butterfly that sails into his open 
mouth." 

The cynical old gentleman is right ; painful as it is 
to oppose his bitter sarcasm to the rose-coloured 
dreams of unsuspecting youth. Those gaily-dress- 
ed Valentines in our windows, will, many of them, 
be sent on evil errands. To-day will commence 
some private tragedies, on which the curtain is to 
fall at the mad-house, or on Black well's Island. 

Alas, society is like an inverted pyramid, and that 
which should point to the heavens, is buried in the 
mud. The highest fact in man's mysterious exist- 
ence, the holiest emblem of the union of divine with 
human, the mediation between matter and spirit, by 
which the former should become glorified and god- 
like, and thus ascend unto the bosom of the Father 
— this sacred gift is trampled under the feet of men, 
and changed into a stinging serpent, which carries its 
foul slime over the roses of life. ' 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 69 

Moore beautifully describes the contest betweea 
two principles which, in a right order of things, 
would never be antagonistical, but only beautiful and 
harmonious qualities of one law of onr being. He 
thus describes a festival in the Epicurean gardens : 
'^ Over the lake of the Temple were scattered wreaths 
of flowers, through which boats, filled with beautiful 
children, floated, as through a liquid parterre. Be- 
tween two of these boats a mock combat was perpet- 
ually carried on ; their respective commanders, two 
blooming youths, being habited to represent Eros and 
Anteros ; the former the Celestial Love of the Pla- 
tonists, and the latter, that more earthly spirit, which 
usurps the name of Love among the Epicureans. 
Throughout the whole evening, their conflict was 
maintained with various success. The timid distance 
at which Eros kept aloof from his lively antagonist, 
being his only safeguard against those darts of fire, 
with shov/ers of which the other assailed him, but 
which falling short of their mark upon the lake, only 
scorched the few flowers on ivhich they fell ^ and were 
extinguished." 

I have wandered from the shop windows of New- 
York, to Grecian gardens, in the ancient time. My 
mind has a troublesome habit, which compels it to 
fly high above the surface of things, or dive into the 
hidden caves beneath. To atone for my mystical va- 
garies, 1 will tell a true story, not without significance 
at this season of Valentines. 

In a city, which shall be nameless, there lived, long 
ago, a young girl, the only daughter of a widow. 
She came from the country, and was as ignorant of 
the dangers of a city, as the squirrels of her native 
fields. She had glossy black hair, gentle, beaminp- 
eyes, and "lips like wet coral." Of course, she knew 
that she was beautiful ; for when she was a child 
strangers often stopped as she passed, and exclaimed, 
"How handsome she is!" And as she grew older, 
the young men gazed on her with admiration. She 



70 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

was poor, and removed to the city to earn her living 
by covering umbrellas. She was just at that suscep- 
tible age, when youth is passing into womanhood ; 
when the soul begins to be pervaded by " that restless 
principle, which impels poor humans to seek perfec- 
tion in union." 

At the hotel opposite, Lord Henry Stuart, an Eng- 
lish nobleman, had at that time taken lodgings. His 
visit to this country is doubtless well remembered by 
many, for it made a great sensation at the time. He 
was a peer of the realm, descended from the royal line, 
and was, moreover, a strikingly handsome man, of 
right princely carriage. He was subsequently a mem- 
ber of the British Parliament, and is now dead. 

As this distinguished stranger passed to and from 
his hotel, he encountered the umbrella-girl, and was 
impressed by her uncommon beauty. He easily trac- 
ed her to the opposite store, where he soon after went 
to purchase an umbrella. This was followed up by 
presents of flowers, chats by the way-side, and in- 
vitations to walk or ride ; all of which were grate- 
fully accepted by the unsuspecting rustic. He was 
playing a game, for temporary excitement: she, with 
a head full of romance, and a heart melting under 
the influence of love, was unconsciously endangering 
the happiness of her whole life. 

Lord Henry invited her to visit the public gardens, 
on the Fourth of July. In the simplicity of her heart, 
she believed all his flattering professions, and consid- 
ered herself his bride elect; she therefore accepted the 
invitation, with innocent frankness. But she had no 
dress fit to appear on such a public occasion, with a 
gentleman of high rank, whom she verily supposed 
to be her destined husband. While these thoughts 
revolved in her mind, her eye was unfortunately at- 
tracted by a beautiful piece of silk, belonging to her 
employer. Ah, could she not take it, without being 
seen, and pay for it secretly, when she had earned 
money enough 7 The temptation conquered her in a 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 71 

moment of weakness. She concealed the silk, and 
conveyed it to her lodgings. It was the first thing she 
had ever stolen, and her remorse was painful. She 
would have carried it back, but she dreaded discove- 
ry. She was not sure that her repentance would be 
met in a spirit of forgiveness. 

On the eventful Fourth of July, she came out in 
her new dress. Lord Henry complimented her upon 
her elegant appearance; but she was not happy. On 
their way to the gardens, he talked to her in a manner 
which she did not comprehend. Perceiving this, he 
spoke more explicitly. The guileless young creature 
stopped, looked in his face with mournful reproach, 
and burst into tears. The nobleman took her hand 
kindly, and said, "My dear, are you an innocent girl?" 
"I am, I am," replied she, with convulsive sobs. 
'^ Oh, what have I ever done, or said, that you should 
ask me that ?" Her words stirred the deep fountains 
of his better nature. " If you are innocent," said he, 
*-God forbid that I should make you otherwise. But 
you accepted my invitations and presents so readily, 
that I supposed you understood me." " What could 
I understand," said she, "except that you intended to 
make me your wife?" Though reared amid the 
proudest distinctions of rank, he felt no inclination to 
smile. He blushed and was silent. The heartless 
conventionalities of life stood rebuked in the presence 
of affectionate simplicity. He conveyed her to her 
humble home, and bade her farewell, with a thankful 
consciousness that he had done no irretrievable inju- 
ry to her future prospects. The remembrance of her 
would soon be to him as the recollection of last year's 
butterflies. With her, the wound was deeper. In 
her solitary chamber, she wept, in bitterness of heart, 
over her ruined air-castles. And that dress, which 
she had stolen to make an appearance befitting his 
bride! Oh, what if she should be discovered? And 
would not the heart of her poor widowed mother 
break, if she should ever know that her child was. a 



72 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

thief? Alas, her wretched forebodings were too true. 
The silk was traced to her: she was arrested, on her 
way to the store, and dragged to prison. There she 
refused all nourishment, and wept incessantly. 

On the fourth day, the keeper called upon Isaac T. 
Hopper, and informed him that there was a young 
girl in prison, who appeared to be utterly friendless, 
and determined to die by starvation. The kind- 
hearted Friend immediately w^ent to her assistance. 
He found her lying on the floor of her cell, with her 
face buried in her hands, sobbing as if her heart 
would break. He tried to comfort her, but could ob- 
tain no answer. 

"Leave us alone," said he to the keeper. "Per- 
haps she will speak to me, if there is none to hear." 
When they were alone together, he put back the hair 
from her temples, laid his baud kindly on her beauti- 
ful head, and said in soothing tones, "My child, con- _ 
sider me as thy father. Tell me all thou hast done. 
If thou hast taken this silk, let me know all about it. 
I will do for thee as I would for a daughter: and I 
doubt not that I can help thee out of this difficulty." 

After a long time spent in affectionate entreaty, she 
leaned her young head on his friendly shoulder, and 
sobbed out, "Oh, I wish I was dead. What will 
my poor mother say, when she knows of my dis- 
grace?" 

"Perhaps we can manage that she never shall 
know it," replied he; and alluring her by this hope, 
he gradually obtained from her the whole story of her 
acquaintance with the nobleman. He bade her be 
comforted, and take nourishment; for he would see 
that the silk was paid for, and the prosecution with- 
drawn. He went immediately to her employer, and 
told him the story. "This is her first offence," said 
he: "the girl is young, and the only child of a poor 
widow. Give her a chance to retrieve this one false 
step, and she may be restored to society, a useful and 
honoured woman. I will see that thou art paid for 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 73 

the silk." The man readily agreed to withdraw the 
prosecution, and said he would have dealt otherwise 
by the gn*l, had he known all the circumstances. 
*'Thou shouldest have inquired into the merits of the 
case, my friend," replied Isaac. ''By this kind of 
thoughtlessness, many a young creature is driven 
into the downward path, who might easily have 
been saved." 

The kind-hearted man then went to the hotel and 
inquired for Henry Stuart. The servant said his lord- 
ship had not yet risen. " Tell him my business is of 
importance," said Friend Hopper. The servant soon 
returned and conducted him to the chamber. The 
nobleman appeared surprised that a plain Quaker 
should thus intrude upon his luxurious privacy; but 
when he heard his errand, he blushed deeply, and 
frankly admitted the truth of the girl's statement. His 
benevolent visiter took the opportunity to "bear a 
testimony," as the Friends say, against the sin and 
selfishness of profligacy. He did it in such a kind 
and fatherly manner, that the young man's heart was 
touched. He excused himself, by saying that he 
would not have tampered with the girl, if he had 
known her to be virtuous. "I have done many wrong 
things," said he, "but, thank God, no betrayal of con- 
fiding innocence rests on my conscience. I have al- 
ways esteemed it the basest act of which man is ca- 
pable." The imprisonment of the poor girl, and the 
forlorn situation in which she had been found, dis- 
tressed him greatly. And when Isaac represented 
that the silk had been stolen for his sake, that the girl 
had thereby lost profitable employment, and was 
obliged to return to her distant home, to avoid the 
dano;er of exposure, he took out a fifty dollar note, 
and offered it to pay her expenses. "Nay," said 
Isaac, " thou art a very rich man; I see in thy hand 
a large roll of such notes. She is the daughter of a 
poor widow, and thou hast been the means of doing 
her great injury. Give me another." 
7 



74 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Lord Henry handed him another fifty dollar note, 
and smiled as he said, "You understand your busi- 
ness well. But you have acted nobly, and I rever- 
ence you for it. If you ever visit England, come to 
see me. I will give you a cordial welcome, and treat 
you like a nobleman." 

"Farewell, friend," replied Isaac : "Though much 
to blame in this affair, thou too hast behaved nobly. 
Mayst thou be blessed in domestic life, and trifle no 
more with the feelings of poor girls; not even with 
those whom others have betrayed and deserted." 

Luckily, the girl had sufficient presence of mind 
to assume a false name, when arrested; by which 
means her true name was kept out of the newspapers. 
"I did this," said she, "for my poor motlier's sake." 
With the money givren by Lord Henry, the silk was 
paid for, and she was sent home to her mother, well 
provided with clothing. Her name and place of res- 
idence remain to this day a secret in the breast of 
her benefactor. 

Several years after the incidents I have related, a 
lady called at Friend Hopper's house, and asked to see 
him. When he entered the room, he found a hand- 
somely dressed young matron, with a blooming boy 
of five or six years old. She rose to meet him, and 
her voice choked, as she said, "Friend Hopper, do 
you know me 7" He replied that he did not. She 
fixed her tearful eyes earnestly upon him, and said, 
" You once helped me, when in great distress." But 
the good missionary of humanity had helped too many 
in distress, to be able to recollect her without more 
precise information. With a tremulous voice, shi 
bade her son go into the next room, for a few min- 
utes ; then dropping on her knees, she hid her face in 
his lap, and sobbed out, " I am the girl that stole the 
silk. Oh, where should I now be, if it had not been 
for you!" 

When her emotion was somewhat calmed, she told 
him that she had married a highly respectable man, a 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 75 

Senator of his native state. Having a call to visit 
the city, she had again and again passed Friend 
Hopper's house, looking wistfully at the windows to 
catch a sight of him; but when she attempted to en- 
ter, her courage failed. 

"But 1 go away to-morrow," said she, "and I 
could not leave the city, without once more seeing 
and thanking him who saved me from ruin." She 
recalled her little boy, and said to him, " Look at 
that gentleman, and remember him well ; for he 
was the best friend your mother ever had." With 
an earnest invitation that he would visit her happy 
home, and a fervent "God bless you," she bade her 
benefactor farewell. 

My venerable friend is not aware that I have writ- 
ten this story. I have not published it from any wish 
to glorify him, but to exert a genial influence on the 
hearts of others; to do my mite toward teaching so- 
ciety how to cast out the Demon Penalty, by the 
voice of the Angel Love. 



LETTER Vm. 



February, 21, 1844. 



My imagination has lately been much excited by 
a vivid account of Mammoth Cave, from a young 
friend who spent several days there. I will try to 
transfer to your mind, as well as I can, the picture 
he gave me, 

" Of antres vast, and deserts idle, 
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whose heads touch heaven." 

Mammoth Cave is situated in the southwest part 
of Kentucky, about a hundred miles from Louisville, 
and sixty from the famous Harrodsburg Springs. 



76 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

The word cave is ill calculated to impress the imagi 
nation Avith an idea of its surpassing grandeur. It 
is in fact a subterranean world; containing within 
itself territories extensive enough for half a score of 
German principalities. It should be named Titans' 
Palace, or Cyclops' Grotto. 

It lies among the Knobs, a range of hills, which 
border an extent of country, like highland prairies, 
called the Barrens. The surroundmg scenery is 
lovely. Fine woods of oak, hickory, and chesnut, 
clear of underbrush, with smooth, verdant openings, 
like the parks of English noblemen. 

The cave was purchased by Dr. John Croghan, for 
$10,000. To prevent a disputed title, in case any 
new and distant opening should be discovered, he 
has likewise bought a wide circuit of adjoining land. 
His enthusiasm concerning it is unbounded. It is 
in fact his world ; and every newly-discovered cham- 
ber fills him with pride and joy, like that felt by 
Columbus, when he first kissed his hand to the fair 
Queen of the Antilles. He has bnilt a commodious 
hotel near the entrance, in a style well suited to the 
place. It is made of logs, filled in with lime ; with 
a fine large porch, in front of which is a beautiful 
verdant lawn. Near by, is a funnel-shaped hollow 
of 300 acres ; probably a cave fallen in. It is called 
Deer Park, because when those animals run into it, 
they cannot escape. There are troops of wild deer 
in the immediate vicinity of the hotel ; bear-hunts 
are frequent, and game of all kinds abounds. 

Walking along the verge of this hollow, you come 
to a ravine, leading to Green River, whence you com- 
mand a view of what is supposed to be the main en- 
trance to the cave. It is a huge cavernous arch, 
filled in with immense stones, as if giants had piled 
them there, to imprison a conquered demon. No 
opening has ever been effected here, nor is it easy to 
imagine that it could be done by the strength of man. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 77 

In rear of the hotel is a deep ravine, densely- 
wooded, and covered with luxuriant vegetable 
growth. It leads to Green River, and was probably 
once a water course. A narrow ravine, diverging 
from this, leads by a winding path, to the entrance of 
the cave. It is a high arch of rocks, rudely piled, 
and richly covered with ivy and tangled vines. At 
the top, is a perennial fountain of sweet and cool 
water, which trickles down continually from the cen- 
tre of the arch, through the pendant foliage, and is 
caught in a vessel below. The entrance of this wide 
arch is somewhat obstructed by a large mound of 
saltpetre, thrown up by workmen engaged in its 
manufactory, during the last war. In the course of 
their excavations, they dug up the bones of a gigan- 
tic man: but, unfortunately, they buried them again, 
without any memorial to mark the spot. They have 
been sought for by the curious and scientific, but are 
not yet found. 

As you come opposite the entrance of the cave, in 
summer, the temperature changes instantaneously, 
from about 85^ to below 60°, and you feel chilled as 
if by the presence of an iceberg. In winter, the 
effect is reversed. The scientific have indulged in 
various speculations concerning the air of this cave. 
It is supposed to get completely filled with cold 
winds during the long blasts of winter, and as there 
is no outlet, they remain pent up till the atmosphere 
without oecomes warmer than that within ; when 
there is, of course, a continual effort toward equi- 
librium. Why the air within the cave should be so 
fresh, pure, and equable, all the year round, even in 
its deepest recesses, is not so easily explained. Some 
have suggested that it is continually modified by the 
presence of chemical agents. Whatever may be 
the cause, its agreeable salubrity is observed by 
every visiter, and it is said to have great healing 
power in diseases of the lungs. 

The amount of exertion which can be performed 
7* 



78 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

here without fatigue, is astonishing. The super- 
abundance of oxygen in the atmosphere operates 
like moderate doses of exhilarating gas. The travel- 
ler feels a buoyant sensation, which tempts him 
to run and. jump, and leap from crag to crag, and 
bound over the stones in his path, like a fawn at 
play. The mind, moreover, sustains the body, be- 
ing kept in a state of delightful activity, by continual 
new discoveries and startling revelations. This ex- 
citement continues after they return to the hotel. 
No one feels the need of cards, or politics. The con- 
versation is all about the cave I The cave I And 
What shall we see to-morrow 7 

The wide entrance to the cavern soon contracts, 
so that but two can pass abreast. At this place, 
called the Narrows, the air from dark depths beyond 
blows out fiercely, as if the spirits of the cave had 
mustered there, to drive intruders back to the realms 
of day. This path continues about fourteen or fif- 
teen rods, and emerges into a wider avenue, floored 
with saltpetre earth, from which the stones have 
been removed. This leads directly into the Ro- 
tunda, a vast hall, comprising a surface of eight 
acres, arched with a dome 100 feet high, without a 
single pillar to support it. It rests on irregular ribs 
of dark gray rock, in massive oval rings, smaller and 
smaller, one seen within another, till they terminate 
at the top. Perhaps this apartment impresses the 
traveller as much as any portion of the cave ; be- 
cause from it he receives his first idea of its gigantic 
proportions. The vastness, the gloom, the impos- 
sibility of taking in the boundaries by the light of 
lamps — all these produce a deep sensation of awe 
and wonder. 

From the Rotunda, you pass into Audubon's Ave- 
nue, from 80 to 100 feet high, with galleries of rock 
on each side, jutting out farther and farther, till they 
nearly meet at top. This avenue branches out into 
a vast half-oval hall, called the Church. This con- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 79 

tains several projecting galleries, one of them re- 
sembling a cathedral choir. There is a gap in the 
gallery, and at the point of interruption, immediately- 
above, is a rostrum, or pulpit, the rocky canopy of 
which juts over. The guide leaps up from the ad- 
joining galleries, and places a lamp each side of the 
pulpit, on flat rocks, which seem made for the pur- 
pose. There has been preaching from this pulpit; 
but unless it was superior to most theological teach- 
ing, it must have been pitifully discordant with the 
sublimity of the place. Five thousand people could 
stand in this subterranean temple with ease. 

So far, all is irregular, jagged rocks, thrown to- 
gether in fantastic masses, without any particular 
style; but now begins a series of imitations, which 
grow more and more perfect, in gradual progression, 
till you arrive at the end. From the Church you 
pass into what is called the Gothic Gallery, from its 
obvious resemblance to that style of architecture. 
Here is Mummy Hall ; so called because several 
mummies have been found seated in recesses of the 
rock. Without any process of embalming, they 
were in as perfect a state of preservation, as the 
mummies of Egypt; for the air of the cave is so dry 
and unchangeable, and so strongly impregnated with 
nitre, that decomposition cannot take place. A 
mummy found here in 1813, was the body of a 
woman five feet ten inches high, wrapped in half- 
dressed deer skins, on which were rudely drawn 
white veins and leaves. At the feet, lay a pair of 
moccasons, and a handsome knapsack, made of 
bark: containing strings of small shining seeds; 
necklaces of bear's teeth, eagle's claws, and fawn's 
red hoofs; whistles made of cane; two rattlesnake's 
skins, one having on it fourteen rattles ; coronets for 
the head, made of erect feathers of rooks and eagles ; 
smooth needles of horn and bone, some of them 
crooked like sail-needles; deer's sinews, for sewing, 
and a parcel of three-corded thread, resembling twine. 



80 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

I believe one of these mummies is now in the British 
Museum. 

From Mummy Hall, you pass into Gothic Ave- 
nue, where the resemblance to Gothic architecture 
very perceptibly increases. The wall juts out in 
pointed arches, and pillars, on the sides of which are 
various grotesque combinations of rock. One is an 
elephant's head. The tusks and sleepy eyes are 
quite perfect ; the trunk, at first very distinct, gradu- 
ally recedes, and is lost in the rock. On another 
pillar is a lion's head; on another, a human head 
with a wig, called Lord Lyndhurst, from its resem- 
blance to that dignitary. 

From this gallery you can step into a side cave, 
in which is an immense pit, called the Lover's Leap. 
A huge rock, fourteen or fifteen feet long, like an 
elongated sugar-loaf running to a sharp point, pro- 
jects half way over this abyss. It makes one shud- 
der to see the guide walk almost to the end of this 
projectile bridge, over such an awful chasm. 

As you pass along, the Gothic Avenue narrows, 
until you come to a porch composed of the first sepa- 
rate columns in the cave. The stalactite and stalag- 
mite formations unite in these irregular masses of 
brownish yellow, which, when the light shines through 
them, look like transparent amber. They are sonor- 
ous as a clear-toned bell. A pendant mass, called 
the Bell, has been unfortunately broken, by being 
struck too powerfully. 

The porch of columns leads to the Gothic Chapel, 
which has the circular form appropriate to a true 
church. A number of pure stalactite columns fill 
the nave with arches, which in many places form a 
perfect Gothic roof The stalactites fall in rich fes- 
toons, strikingly similar to the highly ornamented 
chapel of Henry VH. Four columns in the centre 
form a separate arch by themselves, like trees twist- 
ed into a grotto, in all irregular and grotesque shapes. 
Under this arch stands Wilkins' arm-chair, a stalac- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 81 

tite formation, well adapted to the human figure. 
The chapel is the most beautiful specimen of Gothic 
in the cave. Two or three of the columns have 
richly foliated capitals, like the Corinthian. 

If you turn back to the main avenue, and strike 
off in another direction, you enter a vast room, with 
several projecting galleries, called the Ball Room : 
here the proprietor intends to assemble a brilliant 
dancing party this season. In close vicinity, as if 
arranged b}^ the severer school of theologians, is a 
large amphitheatre called Satan's Council Chamber. 
From the centre rises a mountain of big stones, 
rudely piled one above another, in a gradual slope, 
nearly one hundred feet high. On the top rests a 
huge rock, big as a house, called Satan's Throne. 
The vastness, the gloom, partially illuminated by 
the glare of lamps, forcibly remind one of Lucifer on 
his throne, as represented by Martin in his illustra- 
tions of Milton. It requires little imagination to 
transform the uncouth rocks all round the throne, 
into attendant demons. Indeed, throughout the 
cave, Martin's pictures are continually brought to 
mind, by the unearthly effect of intense gleams of 
light on black masses of shadow. In this Council 
Chamber, the rocks, with singular appropriateness, 
change from an imitation of Gothic architecture, to 
that of the Egyptian. The dark, massive walls re- 
semble a series of Egyptian tombs, in dull and heavy 
outline. In this place is an angle, which forms the 
meeting point of several caves, and is therefore con- 
sidered one of the finest points of view. Here par- 
ties usually stop and make arrangements to kindle 
the Bengal Lights, which travellers always carry 
with them. It has a strange and picturesque effect to 
see groups of people dotted about, at different points 
of view, their lamps hidden behind stones, and the 
light streaming into the thick darkness, through 
chinks in the rocks. When the Bengal Lights be- 
gin to burn, their intense radiance casts a strong 



b'4 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

glare on Satan's Throne ; the whole of the vast 
amphitheatre is revealed to view, and yon can peer 
into the deep recesses of two other caves beyond. 
For a few moments, gigantic proportions and un- 
couth lorms stand out in the clear, strong gush of 

brilliant light ! and then all is darkness. The 

eifect is so like magic, that one almost expects to see 
towering genii striding down the deep declivities, or 
startled by the brilliant flare, shake ofl* their long 
sleep among the dense black shadows. 

If you enter one of the caves revealed in the dis- 
tance, you find yourself in a deep ravine, with huge 
piles of gray rock jutting out more and more, till 
they nearly meet at top. Looking upward, through 
this narrow aperture, you see, high, high above you, 
a vaulted roof of black rock, studded with brilliant 
spar, like constellations in the sky, seen at midnight, 
from the deep clefts of a mountain. This is called 
the Star Chamber. It makes one think of Schiller's 
grand description of William Tell sternly waiting 
for Gessler, among the shadows of the Alps, and of 
Wordsworth's picture of 

" Yorkshire dales 
Among the rocks and winding scars ; 
Where deep and low the hamlets lie, 
Beneath their little patch of sky, 
And little lot of stars." 

In this neighbourhood is a vast, dreary chamber, 
which Stephen, the guide, called Bandit's Hall, the 
first moment his eye rested on it ; and the name is 
singularly expressive of its character. Its ragged 
roughness and sullen gloom are indescribable. The 
floor is a mountainous heap of loose stones, and not 
an inch of even surface could be found on roof or 
walls. Imagine two or three travellers, with their 
lamps, passing through this place of evil aspect. 
The deep, suspicions-looking recesses and frightful 
crags are but partially revealed in the feeble light. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 83 

All at once, a Bengal Light blazes up, and every 
black rock and frowning cliff stands out in the bril- 
liant glare! The contrast is sublime beyond ima- 
gination. It is as if a man had seen the hills and 
trees of this earth only in the dim outline of a 
moonless night, and they should, for the first time, 
be revealed to him in the gushing glory of the morn- 
ing sun. 

But the greatest wonder in this region of the cave, 
is Mammoth Dome — a giant among giants. It is 
so immensely high and vast, that three of the most 
powerful Bengal Lights illuminate it very imper- 
fectly. That portion of the ceiling which becomes 
visible, is 300 feet above your head, and remarkably 
resembles the aisles of Westminster Abbey. It is 
supposed that the top of this dome is near the sur- 
face of the ground. 

Another route from the Devil's Council Chamber 
conducts you to a smooth, level path, called Pensa- 
cola Avenue. Here are numerous formations of 
crystalized gypsum, but not as beautiful or as vari- 
ous as are found farther on. From various slopes 
and openings, caves above and below are visible. 
The Mecca's shrine of this pilgrimage is Angelica's 
Grotto, completely lined and covered with the larg- 
est and richest dog's tooth spar. A person, who 
visited the place, a few years since, laid his sacrile- 
gious hands upon it, while the guide's back was 
turned towards him. He coolly demolished a mag- 
nificent mass of spar, sparkling most conspicuously 
on the very centre of the arch, and wrote his own 
insignificant name in its place. This was his fash- 
ion of securing immortality ! It is well that fairies 
and giants are powerless in the nineteenth century, 
else had the indignant genii of the cave crushed his 
bones to impalpable powder. 

If you pass behind Satan's Throne, by a narrow 
ascending path, you come into a vast hall where 
there is nothing but naked rock. This empty, 



64 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



dreary place is appropriately called the Deserted 
Chamber. Walking along the verge, you arrive at 
another avenue, enclosing sulphur springs. Here the 
guide warns you of the vicinity of a pit, 120 feet 
deep, in the shape of a saddle. Stooping over it, and 
looking upward, you see an abyss of precisely the 
same shape over your head : a fact which indicates 
that it began in the upper region, and was merely 
interrupted by this chamber. 

From this, you may enter a narrow and very tor- 
tuous path, called the Labyrinth, which leads to an 
immense split, or chasm, in the rocks. Here is placed 
a ladder, down which you descend twenty-five or 
thirty feet, and enter a narrow cave below, which 
brings you to a combination of rock called the Gothic 
Window. You stand in this recess, while the guide 
ascends huge cliffs overhead, and kindles Bengal 
Lights, by the help of which you see, 200 feet above 
you, a Gothic dome of one solid rock, perfectly over- 
awing in its vastness and height. Below, is an 
abyss of darkness, which no eye but the Eternal can 
fathom. 

If, instead of descending the ladder, you pass 
straight alongside the chasm, you arrive at the Bot- 
tomless Pit, beyond which no one ever ventured to 
proceed till 1838. To this fact we probably owe the 
meagre account given by Lieber, in his Encyclopae- 
dia Americana. He says, " This cave is more re- 
markable for extent, than the variety or beauty of 
its productions ; having none of the beautiful stalac 
tites found in many other caves." 

For a long period, this pit was considered bottom- 
less, because, when stones were thrown into it, they 
reverberated, and reverberated, along the sides, till 
lost to the ear, but seemed to find no resting-place. 
It has since been sounded, and found to be 140 feet 
deep, with a soft muddy bottom, which returns no 
noise when a stone strikes upon it. In 1838, the 
adventurous Stephen threw a ladder across the chasm, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 759 

and passed over. There is now a narrow bridge of 
two planks, with a little railing on each side : but as 
it is impossible to sustain it by piers, travellers must 
pass over in the centre, one by one, and not touch 
the railing, lest they disturb the balance, and over- 
turn the bridge. 

This walk brings you into Pensico Avenue. Hith- 
erto, the path has been rugged, wild, and rough, in- 
terrupted by steep acclivities, rocks, and big stones ; 
but this avenue has a smooth and level floor, as if 
the sand had been spread out by gently flowing 
waters. Through this, descending more and more, 
you come to a deep arch, by which you enter the 
Winding Way ; a strangely irregular and zig-zag 
path, so narrow that a very stout man could not 
squeeze through. In some places, the rocks at the 
sides are on a line witli your shoulders, then piled 
high over your head ; and then again you rise above, 
and overlook them all, and see them heaped behind 
you, like the mighty waves of the Red Sea, parted 
for the Israelites to pass through. This toilsome 
path was evidently made by a rushing, winding tor- 
rent. Toward the close, the water not having force 
enough to make a smooth bed, has bored a tunnel. 
This is so low and narrow, that the traveller is oblig- 
ed to stoop and squeeze himself through. Suddenly 
he passes into a vast hall, called the Great Relief; 
and a relief it is to stretch one's cramped and weary 
limbs. 

This leads into the River Hall, at the side of which 
you have a glimpse of a small cave, called the Smoke 
House, because it is hung with rocks perfectly in the 
shape of hams. The River Hall descends like the 
slope of a mountain. The ceiling stretches away — 
away — before you, vast and grand as the firmament 
at midnight. No one, who has never seen this cave, 
can imagine the feelings of strong excitement, and 
deep awe, with which the traveller keeps his eye 
fixed on the rocky ceiling, which, gradually revealed 
8 



86 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

in the passing light, continually exhibits some new 
and unexpected feature of sublimity or beauty. 

One of the most picturesque sights in the world, 
is to see a file of men and women passing along 
these wild and scraggy paths, moving slowly — slowly 
— that their lamps may have time to illuminate the 
sky-like ceiling, and gigantic walls; disappearing 
behind the high cliffs, sinking into ravines, their 
lights shining upward through fissures in the rocks ; 
then suddenly emerging from some abrupt angle, 
standing in the bright gleam of their lamps, relieved 
against the towering black masses around them. He 
who could paint the infinite variety of creation, can 
alone give an adequate description of this marvellous 
region. 

At one side of River Hall is a steep precipice, over 
which you can look down, by aid of blazing missiles, 
upon a broad, black sheet of water, eighty feet below, 
called the Dead Sea. This is an awfully impressive 
place, the sights and sounds of which do not easily 
pass from memory. He who has seen it will have 
it vividly brought before him by Alfieri's description 
of Filippo: "Only a transient word or act gives us 
a short and dubious glimmer, that reveals to us the 
abysses of his being ; dark, lurid, and terrific, as the 
throat of the infernal pool." 

As you pass along, you hear the roar of invisible 
water-falls, and at the foot of the slope, the River 
Styx lies before you, deep and black, over-arched 
with rock. The first glimpse of it brings to mind 
the descent of Ulysses into hell. 

'^ Where the dark rock o'erhangs the infernal lake, 
And mingling streams eternal murmurs make." 

Across these unearthly waters, the guide can con- 
vey but two passengers at once ; and these sit mo- 
tionless in the canoe, with feet turned apart, so as 
not to disturb the balance. Three lamps are fast- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 87 

ened to the prow, the images of which are reflected 
in the dismal pool. 

If you are impatient of delay, or eager for new- 
adventures, you can leave your companions linger- 
ing about the shore, and cross the Styx by a danger- 
ous bridge of precipices overhead. In order to do 
this, you must ascend a steep cliff and enter a cave 
above, from an egress of which you find yourself on 
the bank of the river, eighty feet above its surface, 
commanding a view of those passing in the boat, 
and those waiting on the shore. Seen from this 
height, the lamps in the canoe glare like fiery eye- 
balls ; and the passengers sitting there, so hushed and 
motionless, look like shadows. The scene is so 
strangely funereal and spectral, that it seems as if 
the Greeks must have witnessed it, before they ima- 
gined Charon conveying ghosts to the dim regions of 
Pluto. Your companions, thus seen, do indeed, 

" Skim along the dusky glades, 
Thin airy shoals, and visionary shades." 

If you turn your eye from the canoe, to the par- 
ties of men and women, whom you left waiting on 
the shore, you will see them, by the gleam of their 
lamps, scattered in picturesque groups, looming out 
in bold relief from the dense darkness around them. 

When you have passed the Styx, you soon meet 
another stream, appropriately called Lethe. The 
echoes here are absolutely stunning. A single voice 
sounds like a powerful choir; and could an organ be 
played, it would deprive the hearer of his senses. 
When you have crossed, you enter a high level hall 
named the Great Walk, half a mile of which bring 
you to another river, called the Jordan. In crossing 
this, the rocks, in one place, descend so low, as to 
leave only eighteen inches for the boat to pass 
through. Passengers are obliged to double up, and 
lie on each other's shoulders, till this gap is passed. 
This uncomfortable position is, however, of short 



88 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

duration, and you suddenly emerge to where the 
vault of the cave is more than a hundred feet high. 
In the fall of the year, this river often rises, almost 
instantaneously, over fifty feet above low water 
mark ; a phenomenon supposed to be caused by 
heavy rains from the upper earth. On this account, 
autumn is an unfavourable season for those who wish 
to explore the cave throughout. If parties happen 
to be caught on the other side of Jordan, when the 
sudden rise takes place, a boat conveys them, on 
the swollen waters, to the level of an upper cave, 
so low that they ar« obliged to enter on hands and 
knees, and crawl through. This place is called Pur- 
gatory. People on the other side, aware of their 
danger, have a boat in readiness to receive them. 

The guide usually sings while crossing the Jor- 
dan, and his voice is reverberated by a choir of sweet 
echoes. The only animals ever found in the cave 
are fish, with which this stream abounds. They 
are perfectly white, and without eyes ; at least, they 
have been subjected to a careful scientific examina- 
tion, and no organ similar to an eye can be disco- 
vered. It would indeed be a useless appendage to 
creatures that dwell forever in Cimmerian darkness. 
But. as usual, the acuteness of one sense is increased 
by the absence of another. These fish are undis- 
turbed by the most powerful glare of light, but 
they are alarmed at the slightest agitation of the 
water; and it is therefore exceedingly difficult to 
catch them. 

The rivers of Mammoth Cave were never crossed 
till 1840. Great efforts have been made to discover 
whence they come, and whither they go. But 
though the courageous Stephen has floated for hours 
up to his chin, and forced his way through the nar- 
rowest apertures under the dark waves, so as to 
leave merely his head a breathing space, yet they 
still remain as much a mystery as ever — without 
beginnhig or end, like eternity. They disappear 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 89 

under arches, which, even at the lowest stage of 
the water, are under the surface of it. 

From some unknown cause, it sometimes hap- 
pens in the neighbourhood of these streams, that the 
figure of a distant companion will apparently loom 
up, to the height of ten or twelve feet, as he ap- 
proaches you. This occasional phenomenon is some- 
what frightful, even to the most rational observer, 
occurring as it does in a region so naturally asso- 
ciated with giants and genii. 

From the Jordan, through Silliman's Avenue, you 
enter a high, narrow defile, or pass, in a portion of 
which, called the Hanging Rocks, huge masses of 
stone hang suspended over your head. At the side 
of this defile, is a recess, called the Devil's Black- 
smith's Shop. It contains a rock shaped like an 
anvil, with a small inky current running near it, 
and quantities of coarse stalagmite scattered about, 
precisely like blacksmith's cinders, called slag. In 
another place, you pass a square rock, covered with 
beautiful dog's tooth spar, called the Mile Stone. 

This pass brings you into Wellington's Gallery, 
which tapers ofi" to a narrow point, apparently the 
end of the cave in this direction. But a ladder is 
placed on one side by which you ascend to a small 
cleft in the rock, through whicli you are at once 
ushered into a vast apartment, discovered about two 
years ago. This is the commencement of Cleve- 
land's Avenue, the crowning wonder and glory of 
this subterranean world ! At the head of the lad- 
der, you find yourself surrounded by overhanging 
stalactites, in the form of rich clusters of grapes, 
transparent to the light, hard as marble, and round 
and polished, as if done by a sculptor's hand. This 
is called Mary's Vineyard. 

From the Vineyard, an entrance to the right 

brings you into a perfectly naked cave, whence you 

suddenly pass into a large hall, with magnificent 

columns, and rich festoons of slalaclitCj in various 

8=^ 



90 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

forms of beautiful combination. In the centre of 
this chamber, between coh.imns of stalactite, stands 
a mass of stalagmite, shaped like a sarcophagus, in 
which is an opening like a grave. A Roman Catho- 
lic priest first discovered this, about a year ago, and 
with fervent enthusiasm exclaimed, " The H0I7 
Sepulchre !" a name which it has since borne. 

To the left of Mary's Vineyard, is an enclosure 
like an arbour, the ceiUng and sides of which are 
studded with snow-white crystalized gypsum, in 
the form of all sorts of flowers. It is impossible 
to convey an idea of the exquisite beauty and infi- 
nite variety of these delicate formations. In some 
places, roses and lilies seem cut on the rock, in bas- 
relief; in others, a graceful bell rises on a long 
stalk, so slender that it bends at a breath. One is 
an admirable imitation ot^ Indian corn in tassel, the 
silky fibres as fine and flexile as can be imagined; 
another is a group of ostrich plumes, so downy that 
a zephyr waves it. In some nooks were little parks 
of trees, in others, gracefully curled leaves like the 
Acanthus, rose from the very bosom of the rock. 
Near this room is the Siiow Chamber, the roof and 
sides of which are covered with particles of bril- 
liant white gypsum, as if snow-balls had been dashed 
all over the walls. In another apartment the crys- 
tals are all in the form of rosettes. In another, called 
Rebecca's Garland, the flowers have all arranged 
themselves into wreaths. Each seems to have a style 
of formations peculiar to itself, though of infinite 
v^iriety. Days might be spent in these superb grot- 
toes, without becoming familiar with half their hid- 
den glories. One could imagine that some antedilu- 
vian giant had here imprisoned some fair daughter 
of earth, and then in pity for her loneliness, had em- 
ployed fairies to deck her bowers with all the splen- 
dour of earth and ocean. Like poor Amy Robsart, in 
the solitary halls of Cumnor. Bengal Lights, kin- 
dled in these beautiful retreats, pioducc an ciibct 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 91 

more gorgeous than any theatrical representation of 
fairy-land ; but they smoke the pare white incrusta- 
tions, and the guide is therefore very properly reluc- 
tant to have them used. The reflection from the 
shining walls is so strong, that lamplight is quite suf- 
ficient. Moreover, these wonderful formations need 
to be examined slowly, and in detail. The uni- 
versal glitter of Bengal Lights is worthless in 
comparison. 

From Rebecca's Garland you come into a vast 
hall, of great height, covered with shining drops 
of gypsum, like oozing water petrified. In the 
centre is a large rock, four feet high, and level a 
top, round which several hundred people can sit 
conveniently. This is called Cornelia's Table, and is 
frequenily used for parties to dine upon. In this 
hall, and in Wellington's Gallery, are deposits of 
fibrous gypsum, snow-white, dry, and resembling 
asbestos. Geologists, who sometimes take np their 
abode in the cave for weeks, and other travellers 
who choose to remain over night, find this a very 
pleasant and comfortable bed. 

Cornelia's Table is a safe centre, from which in- 
dividuals may diverge on little exploring expedi- 
tions; for the paths here are not labyrinthine, and 
the hall is conspicuous from various neighbouring 
points of view. In most regions of the cave, it is 
hazardous to lose sight of the guide. If you think 
to walk straight ahead, even for a few rods, and 
then turn short round and return to him, you will 
find it next to impossible to do so. So many paths 
come in at acute angles; they look so much alike; 
and the light of a lamp reveals them so imperfectly, 
that none but the practised eye of a guide can 
disentangle their windings. A gentleman who re- 
traced a few steps, near the entrance of the cave, to 
find his hat, lost his way so completely, that he 
was not found for forty-eight hours, though twenty 
or thirty people were in search of him. Parties are 



92 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

occasionally mustered and counted, to see that none 
are missing. Should such an accident happen, there 
is no danger, if the wanderer will remain station- 
ary; for he will soon be missed, and a guide sent 
after him. 

From the hall of congealed drops, you may branch 
off into a succession of small caves, called Cecilia's 
Grottoes. Here nearly all the beautiful formations 
of the surrounding caves, such as grapes, flowers, 
stars, leaves, coral, &c., may be found so low, that 
you can conveniently examine their minutest fea- 
tures. — One of these little recesses, covered with 
sparkling spar, set in silvery gypsum, is called Dia- 
mond Grotto. Alma's Bower closes this series of won- 
derful formations. As a whole, they are called Cleve- 
land's Cabinet, in honour of Professor Cleveland, of 
Bowdoin College. 

Silliman, in his American Journal of Science and 
Art, calls this admirable series, the Alabaster Caves. 
He says: "I was at first at a loss to account for 
such beautiful formations, and especially for the ele- 
gance of the curves exhibited. It is however evi- 
dent that the substances have grown from the rocks, 
by increments or additions to the base; the solid 
parts already formed being continually pushed for- 
ward. If the growth be a little more rapid on one 
side than on the other, a well-proportioned curve will 
be the result; should the increased action on one side 
diminish or increase, then all the beauties of the conic 
and mixed curves would be produced. The masses 
are often evenly and longitudinally striated by a kind 
of columnar structure, exhibiting a fascicle of small 
prisms ; and some of these prisms ending sooner than 
others, give a broken termination of great beauty, sim- 
ilar to our form of the emblem of ' the order of the star.' 
The rosettes formed by a mammillary disk surrounded 
by a circle of leaves, rolled elegantly outward, are from 
four inches to a foot in diameter. Tortuous vines, 
tlirowiiig off curled leaves at every flexure, like the 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 93 

branches of a chandelier, runnmg more than a foot 
in length, and not thicker than the finger, are among 
the varied frost- work of these grottoes ; common sta- 
lactites of carbonate of lime, although beautiful ob- 
jects, lose by contrast with these ornaments, and 
dwindle into mere clumsy, awkward icicles. Be- 
sides these, there are tufts of 'hair salt,' native sul- 
phate of magnesia, depending like adhering snow- 
balls from the roof, and periodically detaching them- 
selves by their own increasing weight. Indeed, the 
more solid alabaster ornaments become at last over- 
grown, and fall upon the floor of the grotto, which 
was found covered with numbers quite entire, be- 
sides fragments of others broken by the fall." 

A distinguished geologist has said that he believed 
Cleveland's Avenue, two miles in length, contained 
a petrified form of every vegetable production on 
earth. If this be too large a statement, it is at 
least safe to say that its variety is almost infinite. 
Amongst its other productions, are large piles of Ep- 
som salts, beautifully crystalized. Travellers have 
shown such wanton destructiveness in this great 
temple of Nature — mutilating beautiful columns, 
knocking off" spar, and crushing delicate flowers — 
that the rules are now very strict. It is allowable to 
touch nothing except the ornaments which have 
loosened and dropped by their own weight. These 
are often hard enough to bear transportation. 

After you leave Alma's Bower, the cave again be- 
comes very rugged. Beautiful combinations of gyp- 
sum and spar may still be seen occasionally over- 
head ; but all round you rocks and stones are piled 
up in the wildest manner. Through such scraggy 
scenery, you come to the Rocky Mountains, an irre- 
gular pile of massive rocks, Irom 100 to 150 feet high. 
From these you can look down into Dismal Hollow 
— deep below deep — the most frightful looking place 
in the whole cave. On the top of the mountain is a 
beautiful rotunda, called Croghan Hall, in honour of 



94 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

the proprietor. Stalactites surround this in the rich- 
est fringe of icicles, and lie scattered about the walls 
in all shapes, as if arranged for a museum. On one 
side is a stalagmite formation like a pine-tree, about 
five feet high, with regular leaves and branches; 
another is m a pyramidal form, like a cypress. 

If you wind down the mountains on the side oppo- 
site from that which you ascended, you will come to 
Serena's Arbour, which is thirteen miles from the 
entrance of the cave, and the end of this avenue. A 
most beautiful termination it is ! In a semicircle 
of stalactite columns is a fountain of pure water 
spouting up from a rock. This fluid is as transpa- 
rent as air ; all the earthy particles it ever held in 
suspension, having been long since precipitated. — 
The stalactite formations in this arbour are remarka- 
bly beautiful. 

One hundred and sixty-five avenues have been 
discovered in Mammoth Cave, the walk through 
which is estimated at about three hundred miles. 
In some places, you descend more than a mile into 
the bowels of the earth. The poetic-minded travel- 
ler, after he has traced all the labyrinths, departs 
with lingering reluctance. As he approaches the 
entrance, daylight greets him with new and startling 
beauty. If the sun shines on the verdant sloping 
hill, and the waving -trees, seen through the arch, 
they seem like fluid gold ; if mere daylight rests upon 
them, they resemble molten silver. This remarkable 
richness of appearance is doubtless owing to the con- 
trast with the thick darkness, to which the eye has 
been so long accustomed. 

As you come out of the cave the temperature of 
the air rises thirty degrees instantly, (if the season 
is summer.) and you feel as if plunged in a hot va- 
pour bath ; but the efl'ects of this are salutary and 
not unpleasant. 

Nature never seems so miraculous as it does when 
you emerge from this hidden realm of marvellous 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 95 

imitations. The "dear goddess" is so serene in her 
resplendent and more harmonious beauty ! The gor- 
geous amphitheatre of trees, the hills, the sky, and 
the air, all seem to wear a veil of transfigured glory. 
The traveller feels that he was never before conscious 
how beautiful a phenomenon is the sunlight, how 
magnificent the blue arch of heaven ! 

There are three guides at the service of travellers, 
all well versed in the intricate paths of this nether 
world. Stephen, the presiding genius of Mammoth 
Cave, is a mulatto, and a slave. He has lived in 
this strange region from boyhood, and a large pro- 
portion of the discoveries are the result of his cour- 
age, intelligence, and untiring zeal. His vocation 
has brought him into contact with many intellectual 
and scientific men, and as he has great quickness of 
perception, and a prodigious memory, he has profited 
much by intercourse with superior minds. He can 
recollect every body that ever visited the cave, and 
all the terms of geology and mineralogy are at his 
tongue's end. He is extremely attentive, and pecu- 
liarly polite to ladies. Like most of his race, he is 
fond of grandiloquent language, and his rapturous 
expressions, as he lights up some fine point of view, 
are at times fine specimens of glorification. His 
knowledge of the place is ample and accurate, and 
he is altogether an extremely useful and agreeable 
guide. May his last breath be a free one ! 



96 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



LETTER IX. 

March 15, 1844. 

March is playing its usual tricks. For the first 
fortnight, we had such genial, brilliant weather, that 
June seemed to have come to us by mistake. This 
early spring influence always fills me with gladness. 
A buoyant principle of life leaps up in my soul, like 
sap in the trees. I feel the greatest desire of " danc- 
ing with the whole world," as Frederika Bremer 
says. To be sure, these bright, sunny days do make 
me feel a little impatient with bricks and paving 
stones. Now and then, there comes over me a yearn- 
ing vision of Mary Howitt's wood-mouse, eating his 
chestnut under the canopy of a mushroom ; and I 
wish that the world would give me as fair a life- 
lease of food and shelter in the green fields. But — 

'' Out upon the calf, I say, 
Who turns his grumbling head away, 
And quarrels with his feed of hay, 
Because it is n't clover. 

Give to me the happy mind. 
That will ever seek and find 
Something good and something kind, 
All the wide world over." 

Why need I sigh for green fields ? Does not Broad- 
way superabound with beauty 7 Forth went I into 
the sunshine. The doves were careering about the 
liberty-poles, showing the silver lining of their breasts 
and wings to the morning light. The little Canary 
birds sang so joyously, that one forgot, for the mo- 
ment, that they were confined in cages. Young 
girls were out in the morning breeze, making the 
side-walk like a hedge of blush-roses. In the mag- 
nificent stores of Broadway, rich ribbons and silks 
shone like a parterre of tulips in the Netherlands. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. W 

Through the large windows, beautiful candelabras 
gracefully held out their lily-cups of frosted silver, 
and prismatic showers of cut glass were upborne by 
Grecian sylphs, or knights of the middle ages, in 
golden armour. I often gaze at the rich array, de- 
lighting in beauty for its own sake. I look at them, 
as I do at the stars and the forests, without the slight- 
est wish to appropriate them, and with the feeling 
that every human being ought to enjoy the fairest 
creations of Art, as freely as the sunlight and the star- 
glory, which our Father gives to all. 

Thinking thus, I came in sight of the Park Foun- 
tain, leaping up joyously into the morning air. The 
sun, climbing over the roofs, had just touched it, and 
completely covered it with a mantle of rainbows. It 
was so gloriously beautiful, that I involuntarily utter- 
ed a cry of joy. And this, thought I, is a universal 
gift. Prismatic chandeliers and flowers of frosted 
silver may be shut up in princely saloons, guarded 
by sheriff and police ; but what jeweller can produce 
anything so superbly beautiful as this silvery spray, 
and these glancing rainbows? For the labourer re- 
turning from daily toil to his narrow and crowded 
home, here is a wayside vision of freedom, of beauty, 
and of joy. Who can calculate how much it cools 
and refreshes his fevered and fettered soul? There 
are those who inquire what was the use of expend- 
ing so much money for something to look at 7 Alas 
for them ! for they know not that " a thing of beauty 
is a joy for ever." 

Some speak disparagingly of this superb ^e^ d^eau, 
because there are no water-nymphs, or marble urns. 
They mistake the usual accessories of a fountain for 
the thing itself, as they do not recognise a man, un- 
less he stands in a stylish coat. But for myself, I 
like the simplicity of the greensward, and the water 
in its own unadorned gracefulness. If I must live in 
a city, the fountains alone would determine my 
choice in favour of New- York. 
9 



98 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

I found the Battery unoccupied, save by children, 
whom the weather made as merry as birds. Every- 
thing seemed moving to the vernal tune of 

" Brignal banks are fresh and fair, 
And Greta woods are green." 

To one who was chasing her hoop, I said, smihng, 
" You are a nice Uttle girl." She stopped, looked up 
in my face, so rosy and happy, and laying her hand 
on her brother's shoulder, exclaimed earnestly, "And 
he is a nice httle boy, too !'" It was a simple, child- 
like act, but it brought a warm gush into my heart. 
Blessings on all unselfishness ! On all that leads us 
in love to prefer one another. Here lies the secret 
of universal harmony ; this is the diapason, which 
would bring us all into tune. Only by losing our- 
selves can we find ourselves. How clearly does the 
divine voice within us proclaim this, by the hymn 
of joy it sings, whenever we witness an unselfish 
deed, or hear an unselfish thought. Blessings on 
that loving little one ! She made the city seem a 
garden to me. I kissed my hand to her, as I turned 
off in quest of the Brooklyn ferry. The sparkling 
waters, swarmed with boats, 'some of which had 
taken a big ship by the hand, and were leading her 
out to sea, as the prattle of childhood often guides 
wisdom into the deepest and broadest thouglit. 

A few moments of bounding, billowy motion, and 
the ferry-boat touched the Brooklyn pier. This 
place is a pleasant contrast to the swarming hive o" 
New- York ; for though laid out in streets, and call - 
ing itself a city, there are open spaces, and breezy 
heights, and pasture land, and cows. 

In a conservatory here, I found a teacher, who 
said more to me than sermons often do. It was a lux- 
uriant rhododendron, covered with blossoms. When 
some one, in passing, shook it roughly, it scattered a 
shower of honey-dew from its roseate cups, and im- 
mediately began to fill its chalices anew with trans*^ 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 99 

parent ambrosia. For a few days past, I had been a 
little vexed with the world for its rude thoughtless- 
ness ; but I took a lesson of the rhododendron, to 
shower sweetness on hands that disturbed me, and 
to fill anew with pure honey-drops the chalices of 
my inward thought. 

Before I returned to the city, capricious March had 
taken the sulks, and whistled through me, as if it came 
from a thousand ice-bergs. But though the troop of 
children had all scampered from the Battery, and the 
waters looked turbid and cold, the joyous little hoop- 
driver had left in my memory her sunny face and 
loving tones. 



LETTER X. 



March 29, 1844. 



My friend, why do you write so despondingly 7 
Is it a wise, a beautiful, or a useful mission, to throw 
a wet blanket on all enthusiasm and hope 7 The in- 
fluences of the age do this more than enough to pre- 
serve the balance of things. Let us be of the few, 
who diligently keep the sacred fire from going out on 
the altar. 

There have always been a large class of thinkers 
who deny that the world makes any progress. They 
?ay we move in a circle ; that evils are never con- 
quered, but only change their forms. In proof of 
this doctrine, they remind us that the many are now 
as effectually kept in subjection to the few, by com- 
mercial fraud and diplomatic cunning, as they once 
were by sword and battle-axe. This class of reason- 
ers are uncomfortable to the hopeful soul ; the more 
so, because they can easily bring forward an array 



100 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

of facts, from which, in the very nature of the case, 
it is impossible to evolve the good and evil separately, 
to weigh them accurately, and justly determine the 
results of each on the whole destiny of man. These 
unbelievers point to the past, whose records are 
deeply graven, and seen of all men, though they 
relate only to the externals of human history ; while 
those who believe in perpetual progress found their 
faith mainly on the inward growth and unwritten 
history of the soul. They see Avithin all events a 
spiritual essence, subtle, expansive, and noiseless as 
light; and from the roseate gleam resting on the 
horizon's edge, they predict that the sun will rise to 
its zenith, and veil the whole earth in transfigured 
glory. 

It is the mission of the prophet to announce, rather 
than to prove ; yet facts are not wanting io prove that 
mankind have made progress. Experience is not 
always at discord with hope ; perhaps it is never so, 
if we could read history as the Omniscient reads it. 
Doubtless the world does move in circles, and good 
and evil, reproduced in new forms, bear a continual 
check-and-balance relation to each other. But the 
circles in which we move rise in a perpetually as- 
cending series, and evil will finally be overcome with 
good. The very fierceness of the conflict shows that 
this consummation is approaching. There never was 
a time when good and evil, truth and falsehood, were 
at work with such miraculous activity. To those 
who look on the surface, it may seem as if the evil 
and the false were gaining the victory, because the 
evil and the false are always more violent and tu- 
multuous than the good and the true. The tornado 
blusters, and the atmosphere is still ; but the atmos- 
phere produces and sustains a thousand-fold more 
than the tornado destroys. The good and the true 
work for eternity in a golden silence. 

The very uproar of evil, at the present time, is full 
of promise ; for all evil must be made manifest^ that 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. lOl 

it may be cured. To this end Divine Providence is 
continually exerted both in the material and the 
spiritual world. If the right proportions of the at- 
mosphere are disturbed, the discord manifests itself 
in thunder and lightning, and thus is harmony re- 
stored. To the superstitious it sounds like the voice 
of wrath, but it is only Universal Love restoring 
order to the elements. 

Behind the cause lies the end; and that is, evil in 
the soul of man. He it is who disturbs the balance 
of the elements, and his sins are uttered in thunder 
and storm. But the manifestatimi is ever healthy, 
and the precursor of restored harmony. Welcome, 
then, to such books as Oliver Twist and the Mys- 
teries of Paris; welcome to all the painful unfoldiiigs 
of Anti-slavery, Temperance, and Prison Associa- 
tions ; to all that, in a spirit friendly to man, lays 
open the crimes, the vices, and the harshness of 
society. 1 hail this universal tendency to manifesta- 
tion as a joyful omen. 

Dost thou ask, oh, unbelieving reader, for proof 
that the world has made progress ? Consider well 
the great fact of British emancipation in the West 
Indies. Show me another instance in the world's 
history, where the heart of a whole nation was kin- 
dled, as it were, by a divine flame, to right the wrongs 
of a distant and helpless people. A people too poor 
to repay their benefactors; nay, for whose sake the 
benefactors taxed themselves heavily. A people too 
low and vulgar, in their utter degradation, to cast 
the faintest gleam of romance over the sympathy 
.which came to their rescue. Could this deed have 
Deen done under the influence of any other religion, 
than the Christian 7 Was anything done in the pre- 
ceding ages, to be compared to it for moral grandeur? 
Great and glorious actions were doubtless performed 
by those old Greeks and Romans, and knights of the 
Middle Ages; but show me one so transcendently 
unselfish — one in which a nation acted from so pure 
9* 



102 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

a sentiment of justice, untarnished by the acquisition 
of wealth, or fame, or power. It has been well said, 
that, " We seek history in vain for the results of 
honesty, justice, and kindness, as exemplified in the 
dealings of nation toward nation ; or in the conduct 
of the mighty and powerful toward the defenceless 
and the weak. It was reserved for England to fur- 
nish this missing chapter in the history of the worl< 
— this unlimned picture in the Gallery of Time." 

It has been asserted that the British governmen 
did this as a skilful move in the game of nations, 
wish I could believe such speech had no worse origin 
than ignorance of facts. The British government 
finds an increase of power in the grand moral posi- 
tion it has taken on the subject of slavery; but they 
had no faith that such would be the result. " Hon- 
esiy is the best policy, but policy without honesty 
never finds that out." Therefore, the application of 
great moral truths to the condition of man is never 
discovered by governments. Such perceptions come 
in the stillness to individual souls, and thence glide 
through the social fabric. At last a nation hails 
them as holy, and the moral power of a people com- 
pels government to adopt them, though with a 
growling disbelief in their efficacy. The good done 
by diplomatists and politicians is effected by the con- 
straining force of public opinion : the bad they do is 
their own. This is the history of all amelioration in 
law; and it is eminently true with regard to British 
emancipation. The ruling powers resisted it as long 
as they could; but the fire kindled in the heart 
and conscience of the nation grew hotter and hot- 
ter. Government had sufficient sagacity to foresee 
that the boilers would burst, unless a safety-valve 
were supplied. When petitions grew so bulimy that 
it required six men to carry them into Parliament, 
legislators began to say, "It is not safe for us to pro- 
crastinate longer. When 800,000 even of the women 
of England are knocking at our door, there is no 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 108 

more time for delay." Thus it was that govern- 
ment yielded up its cold and selfish policy, a sacri- 
fice on the altar of a nation's heart. 

Do you remind me of slavery in other parts of the 
British empire? Of slavery in her own factories 
and mines? I tell you the divine fire, which burnt 
ofi* the fetters of the negro slave, cast its light clearly 
and strongly on other wrongs. The deepest corner 
of those dark and dismal mines stands fully revealed 
to the public gaze in the gleam of that holy flame ; 
and it has already consumed the cord which bound 
the East Indian in British slavery. 

If you are ignorant of these facts, thank the jea- 
lousy and conscious guilt of the American press. 
Our editors have carefully concealed the progress of 
emancipation, and its blessed results, while they 
have diligently sought for stories of insurrection, to 
sustain the detestable theory that God made one-half 
of his children to be slaves to the other half The 
much-desired insurrections never occurred. The ne- 
groes were too grateful and too docile to realize our 
republican hopes ; and in lieu of fire and blood, our 
editors are constrained to make the most they can of 
the diminished production of sugar. As if the eter- 
nal truths contained in our own Declaration of Inde- 
pendence could be changed, or modified, by the 
sweetening of our tea ! 

Few facts are more disgraceful to the American 
press than the manner in which West India emanci- 
pation has been treated. Deep indeed must this 
country have been sunk in prejudice and sin, to have 
received these glad tidings of regenerated humanity, 
with such obvious coldness and aversion. Had we 
been sincere in our professed love of freedom, instead 
of jealous inuendoes and evil auguries, we should 
have sung to England a chorus of joy and praise, 
such as angels utter over a sinner that repenteth. 

But let us turn again to proofs of the world's pro- 
gress. Look at the glorious position of Ireland ! 



104 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Where can you find moral grandeur to be compared 
to it, in the history of nations 1 A people trampled 
on for generations, and therefore ignorant and violent 
— a people proverbially impulsive, bold, and reckless, 
stand before the imposing array of British power, and 
say, as William Penn did, when threatened with 
imprisonment in the Tower, "Well, friend, thy 
strength shall never equal my patience." Their op- 
pressors, learned in the operations of brute force, ar- 
rest the Irish Liberator on the day of a great Repeal 
gathering, when the populace are out in masses, and 
under the influence of strong excitement. Having 
cannon and troops in readiness, they seize O'Connell, 
nothing doubting that a storm of stones and shille- 
lahs will give them a specious pretext for placing 
Ireland under military control. But lo ! neither 
heads nor laws are broken ! The British govern- 
ment stands check-mated by the simple principle of 
peace. O'Connell has assured the Irish people that 
moral power is mightier than physical force; and 
they, with their strong hands, and hearts burning 
with a sense of accumulated wrongs, believe the 
words he has so wisely uttered. Here is a knot for 
diplomatists, a puzzle for politicians! Swords will 
not cut it, cannon cannot shatter it, fire will not burn 
it. It is a power that transcends governments, and 
governments must surrender before its unconquered 
majesty. 

Perhaps you will say that O'Connell acts only 
from policy, as statesmen and generals have done be- 
fore him. But does it mark no progress, that a man, 
who sways millions to his will, perceives this to be 
the best policy ? Is there no encouragement in the 
fact that the most excitable and turbulent of people 
believe the word he has spoken 7 Could the Irish 
have attained to this wonderful self-command, if 
Father Mathew had not prepared them for the work .^ 
The Law of Temperance has made a pathway in 
the desert for the Law of Love, and the forces of the 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 105 

milleninm are marching in, bearing on their ban- 
ners, '' FriendSj thy strength shall never equal my 
patience." 

Duelling, strongly sustained as it has been, and 
still is, by the pride and passions of men, is gradually 
passing into disrepute. More and more, men dare to 
brand him as the real coward, who yields the good 
instincts of his heart, and the honest convictions of 
his own soul, to an erroneous popular opinion. Even 
South Carolina, the land of pistol chivalry, is begin- 
ning to reouke the bloody folly. In this, too, O'Con- 
nell's example is great, though not blameless. The 
force of public opinion, and the persevering insolence 
of political opponents once drove him into a duel. 
He shot the man who had long boasted that he would 
rid the country of him. But his noble nature rose 
against the murderous deed, and he dared to obey its 
dictates. He settled a generous pension on the widow 
of his enemy, and took a solemn oath, which he 
caused to be recorded, that he would never again 
fight a duel, under any provocation. Repeated ef- 
forts have been made to provoke him into a violation 
of his promise ; but in answer to all challenges, he 
calmly returns a record of his oath. Assuredly, the 
good seed scattered by the preaching of George Fox, 
and the courageous meekness of his disciples, have 
brought forth fruit an hundred fold. 

Those inust be blind indeed who see no signs of 
moral and intellectual growth in the extended sphere 
of woman's usefulness, and the high standard of fe- 
male character. A woman as well educated as half 
the mechanics' daughters in our country, would have 
been pointed at as a prodigy, a century ago. It is 
astonishing what a moderate knowledge of science 
or literature, then passed for prodigious learning. A 
woman who had written a book was wondered at, 
and feared; and judicious mothers cautioned their 
daughters not to follow such an eccentric example, 
lest they should lose all chance of getting husbands. 



106 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Now, books from the pens, of women, and some of 
them excellent books too, are poured forth by hun- 
dreds, and no one considers the fact a remarkable 
one. Nor have women lost in refinement and use- 
fulness what they have gained in knowledge and 
power. In the transition state of society, it is true 
that learned women generally became awkward ped- 
ants ; but at the present time, women of the deepest 
philosophical insight, and the most varied learning, 
are eminently characterized by practical usefulness, 
and the domestic virtues. 

Observe the fast increasing odium attached to cap- 
ital punishment. Even its defenders argue for it, as 
men do for slavery and war, with the plea of neces- 
sity^ and with an ill-concealed consciousness that 
their utterance is at discord with the maxims of 
Christ. The governor of Vermont lately recom- 
mended the legislature of that state to repeal the 
law, which ordained that no man should be hung 
till a year after being sentenced; but instead of fol- 
lowing his advice, they prolonged the term to fifteen 
months. Maine has passed a similar law. 

Some years ago, in a small work on education, 
called " The Mother's Book," I recommended that a 
child should never be whipt in anger. A relative 
said to me, "I should be ashamed of myself if I 
could whip my child when I was not angry." At 
the time, I thought the remark a foolish one ; for I 
had then some faith in physical coercion to effect 
moral good ; but I now see that the mother's in- 
stincts were wiser than mine, though they did not 
lead her to wise conclusions. Few parents could 
whip a child a week after the offence was com- 
mitted ; and states will find it difficult to hang crim- 
inals, a year after the excitement of the trial has 
passed away. In process of time, the prisons them- 
selves will furnish no one hardened enough to per- 
form the office of a hangman; and no clergyman will 
be found so blinded to the true mission of Christian- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 107 

ity, as to pray on a drum head for success in blow- 
ing the souls of human brethren out of their bodies, 
with bomb-shells ; or to stand under the gallows and 
pray for beneficial effects from legalized murder. 

"Thank God that I have lived to see the time, 
When the great truth begins at last to find 
An utterance from the deep heart of mankind, 
Earnest and clear, that all revenge is crime ! 
That man is holier than a creed; that all 
Restraint upon him must consult his good ; 
Hope^s sunshine linger on his prison wall, 
And Love look in upon his solitude. 
The beautiful lesson which our Saviour taught, 
Through long dark centuries its way hath wrought, 
Into the common mind and popular thought ; 
And words to which, by Galilee's lake shore, 
The humble fishers listened with hushed oar, 
Have found an echo in the general heart, 
And of the public faith become a living part." 

It is true that, in this age of intellectual analysis, 
cunning has, in a great measure, taken the place of 
force, and with disastrous results. Still, the society 
that is governed by intellect, however much pervert- 
ed from its true use, is in advance of society gov- 
erned by club and battle axe. But from the present 
state of things men are obviously passing into better 
order. The transition is certainly a restless and 
painful one ; but there is everything to hope from the 
fact that the secrets of fraud and cunning are so uni- 
versally laid open, and that men are calling more and 
more loudly for something better to supersede them. 
Not in vain did Fourier patiently investigate, for 
thirty years, the causes of social evils and their rem- 
edy. Not in vain are communities starting up all 
around us, varied in plan, but all born of one idea. 
Do you say they will never be able to realize their 
aspirations? Away with your scepticism! I tell 
yoi that, if they all die, they will not perish without 



108 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

leaving the seed of great social truths scattered on 
the hill-sides and in the valleys ; and the seed will 
spring up and wave in a golden harvest. God does 
not thus mock with false hopes the beings He has 
made in his own image. He has taught us to pray- 
that his kingdom may come on earth, as it is in 
heaven ; and He will answer the prayer in glorious 
fulfilment. 



LETTER XI. 



April 7th, 1844, 



It is curious to observe the number of things con- 
tinually crowding on the over-taxed attention of a 
large city : the efforts of the individual to be seen 
above the mass ; to be acknowledged as an entity 
in the human ocean. In Broadway, there walks 
here and there an ultraist of fashion, of whom one 
is tempted to ask, as did Jane Taylor's simple little 
girl :— 

"What naughty tricks pray has she done, 
That they have put a fool's cap on?" 

Another segment of the social circle presents men 
preaching vociferously from cart-wheels, at the cor- 
ners of the streets ; men in dust-coloured garments, 
with beards descending to their girdles ; here an in- 
dividual with a large glittering breastplate, inscribed 
Avith texts of Scripture ; and there another, with 
shirt worn outward, like a frock, and a large cross 
blazoned thereon. 

These eccentric characters, which abound in our 
time, are among the many curious indications of rap- 
id changes going over the old prejudices and opin- 
ions of society. When the pressure of the atmos- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 109 

phere. to which we have been accustomed, either 
materially or spiritually, is partially removed, none 
but the strongest can stand on their feet ; the weaker 
and more susceptible totter and reel about, in the 
strangest style. Bat even this staggering and spas- 
modic life is far better than the inertia of the world- 
ling and the epicure. As I walk the streets, I often 
meet men coming out of princely houses, and ob- 
scure grog-shops, whose souls are buried and sealed 
up in the sepulchre of their bodies, with no indication 
that a spirit once lived there, except the epitaph of a 
fretful and dissatisfied expression. They remind me 
of Driesbach's animals, leading a life of gluttony, 
sleep, and mechanical evolution. The Fourierites, 
with significant irony, would call them both the ulti- 
mate products of civilization. 

The menagerie attracts crowds daily. It is cer- 
tainly exciting to see Driesbach dash across the area 
in his chariot drawn by lions ; or sleep on a bed of 
living leopards, with a crouching tiger for his pillow; 
or offering his hand to the mouth of a panther, as he 
would to the caresses of a kitten. But I could not 
lielp questioning whether it were right for a man to 
risk so nuich, or for animals to suffer so much, for 
the purposes of amusement and pecuniary profit. 1 
pitied the poor beasts; for they seemed very sad, 
and their passive obedience was evidently the result 
of terror. Seeing plainly, as I do, that coercion, 
with all its discords, is a complete reversal of the 
divine law of attraction, and the harmonies it evolves, 
this caravan, with its wonderful exhibition of sub- 
dued ferocity and imitated intelligence, appeared to 
me like a small apartment of the infernal regions. 
Again and again, [ returned to be soothed by the 
gentle Llama. I almost fancied that a human soul 
had passed into it, and was gazing sadly, through 
the large brilliant eyes, on this forced subjection of 
the free creatures of God. 

The Llama has always interested me strongly, and 
10 



110 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

this was a beautiful specimen of its kind. It is, I be- 
lieve, the only animal which man has never been 
able to subdue by blows. When beaten, it weeps and 
dies, but will not obey. Its extreme susceptibility to 
music, shows that it embodies some of the gentler 
affections. Its countenance and motions vary inces- 
santly with the changing tune, and when the strain 
is plaintive, it stands motionless and listening, till the 
beautiful eyes are suffused with tears. I wish it could 
have known the love it excited in my heart. I felt 
melancholy to leave it thus alone, away from all its 
kind, compelled to watch the perpetual drill service 
of animals huge and small. But through this feeling 
arose the clear voice of Hope, proclaiming that the 
tigers and snakes ivith'm man would finally be sub- 
dued. When this process is completed, man, being 
at peace with himself, will be in harmony witli 
Nature, and the obedience of inferior creatures will 
become freedom and joy, through the divine law of 
attraction. 

Among the invasions on the rights of animals is 
the Eccaleobion, a machine for hatching eggs by ar- 
tificial warmth. This idea of substituting machinery 
for mothers excites in me some resistance. I should 
suppose the intelligent hens would get up a protest 
against being thus thrust aside from the uses of crea- 
tion. The Eccaleobion is an ultimate form of the 
mechanical spirit of this age, wherein men construct 
artificial memories, and teach grammar by a machine, 
in which the active verb is a little hammer pounding 
on the objective case. 

An egg broken on the third day of this artificial 
hatching was shown to me, and I was extremely in- 
terested in watching the first pulsations of the chick- 
en's heart. Though no bigger than a pin's head, it 
worked with the regularity and precision of a steam- 
engine. 

There have lately been several courses of lectures 
on Anatomy, adapted to popular comprehension. I 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. Ill 

rejoice at this ; for it has long been a cherished wish 
with me that a knowledge of the structure of our bo- 
dies, and the laws which govern it, should extend 
from the scientific few into the common education of 
the people. I know of nothing so well calculated to 
diminish vice and vulgarity, as universal and rational 
information. But the impure state of society has so 
perverted nature, and blinded common sense, that in- 
telligent women, though eagerly studying the struc- 
ture of the earth, the attraction of the planets, and 
the reproduction of plants, seem ashamed to know 
anything of the structure of the human body, and 
of those physiological facts most intimately connect- 
ed with their own health, and that of their children. 
I often hear remarks, which tempt me to exclaim, as 
Sir Charles Grandison did, to a lady who held her 
fan before her face, in the presence of a marble statue : 
" Wottest thou not, my dear, how much mdelicacy 
there is in thy delicacy." 

The Manikin, or Artificial Anatomy, used in illus- 
trating these popular lectures, is an extremely curious 
machhie, invented by a French physician. It is 
made of lyapier mache^ and represents the human 
body with admirable perfection, in the shape, colour- 
ing, and arrangement, even of the minutest fibres. 
By the removal of wires, it can be completely dissect- 
ed, so as to show the locality and functions of the 
various organs, the interior of the heart, lungs, (fcc. 
I was struck with the perpetual presence of the red 
artery and the blue vein, side by side, in thetainutest 
subdivisions of the frame ; the arteries conveying 
healthy, vigorous blood from the heart, to pervade 
and nourish the whole system; the veins returning 
the exhausted and impure blood to the lungs, there to 
be purified by atmospheric action, and again return 
into the arteries. Is it not so with the progressive 
annunciation of truth, by the circulation of which 
the social body has attained its present growth 7 
Does not every truth come to us from the central 



112 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

heart of things, to be carried, with earnest, self-for- 
getting zeal, into tlie very fingers and toes of society? 
And when it becomes a dogma and a creed, learned 
only by tradition, must it not go back to God's free 
atmosphere, to be purified for newer and higher ma- 
nifestations ? 

But as every drop of blood, while it nourishes the 
body, likewise changes it, so that no particle of bone, 
muscle, or flesh, is ever to-day precisely as it was 
yesterday — so the circulation of truth through the 
world gradually changes the whole social fabric, and 
the new truth comes into a social frame, different 
from the preceding, even in the minutest muscles of 
its extremities. 

Christianity has degenerated into sectarism, and is 
now returning, through innumerable veins, to be pu- 
rified for healthy arterial action from the central 
heart. Yet had it not run an earnest life, and been 
returned through dogmas to be revivified, could there 
have been a social body fit to receive the high truths 
which will roll the world forward into its millenium? 
Of what use, for instance, would it be to preach pure, 
spiritual doctrines concerning marriage, to a social 
organization based on Mahometanism ? Disorderly 
as society now appears, it is nevertheless true that 
the smallest fibre of the toe in our social frame, is in 
more harmonious relation to the universe, than it 
would havv3 been had we not descended from nations 
possessing a knowledge of Christianity. 

The sarme thing is true of fragmentary portions of 
Christianity. Anti-slavery, temperance, and peace, 
may degenerate into sects, and thus cease to promote 
growth ; but the fact, that they once circulated Avith 
a true life, has prepared every fibre of the social or- 
ganization for the appropriation of higher and more 
universal truths. Thus does the world grow from 
infancy to youth, and from youth to manhood. 

And after manhood — what then comes to society 7 
Must it reproduce itself through another infancy and 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 113 

youth? Or, being spiritual in its essence^ will it, like 
the soul of man, finally wear a spiritual ^oc??/, to live 
and move freely, in harmony with the iwiiverse ? 

Here I pause; and looking thoughtfully from my 
window, a peaceful cemetery lies before me, with its 
grassy mounds and evergreen shrubbery. Busy 
thought has projected its lines far into the infinite, 
and through that sleeping-place only, can it ever see 
the return of the curve. Ah, how much I shall then 
know ! Magazines would pay a hundred guineas a 
page for my information, if they could only be sure 
that the author was where she dated from. I will 
come in the deep stillness of the starry midnight, and 
whisper it to gentle, child-like souls ; and they will 
utter it, not knowing whence it came. But the peri- 
odicals will call it mysticism and trash, not worth 
half a dollar a page, and far less important than the 
price of cotton. Nevertheless, the mystical word 
will pass from God's free atmosphere into the lungs 
of society, and renovate the spiritual blood, which, 
having completed its course, will return again to the 
centre. And day by day the whole body will be 
slowly changed, so that no little veinlet or bone will 
remain as it was. before the despised mystical word 
was uttered. The angels will watch all this in its 
hourly progress, while they take no note of presiden- 
tial elections, or the price of cotton. 



LETTER XII. 



April 15, 1844. 



You remind me that I often allude to correspond- 
ences between things natural and spiritual, and ask 
how I can call it a science, since it is altogether arbi- 
10^ 



114 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

trary and imaginary. It is doubtless true that the- 
ories of correspondence may be invented, which are 
unUke, and even contradictory ; but this does not 
alter the fact that there is a real harmonious relation 
between all things natural and all things spiritual, 
descending from generals into the minutest particu- 
lars, and governed by laws as unchangeable as any 
of the outward sciences. This was first revealed to 
me, in early life, in the writings of Swedenborg. The 
subject took strong hold of my mind, and has ever 
since deeply and vividly coloured the whole fabric of 
my thought. 

Minds accustomed to observe the relation between 
the inward and the outward, are struck, first of all, 
with the duality that prevails everywhere; the univer- 
sal presence of a masculine and a feminine principle. 
For instance, understanding and will, or thought and 
affection ; light and heat; time and space; words and 
tones. That tones indicate the affections, or feelings, 
needs no proof; for every body knows that the mean- 
ing of a word may be entirely changed by the tone 
in which it is uttered. In proportion as the senti- 
ments are refined and cultivated, musical inflexions 
run through the voice, and perchance are heard by 
the angels as a harp accompaniment to speech. 

In written language, the duality is again observa- 
ble ; for vowels are feminine and consonants mascu- 
line. Hence music flows more easily into languages 
abounding with vowels. These sounds glide and 
mingle, like all expressions of the affections ; but 
consonants are hard and distinct, like things of truth. 

Love, or Good, is the inmost universal essence of 
all things. Music, being disembodied tone, is the 
expression of love, or the affections, in a general 
sense. Hence, it glides, like a pervading soul, into 
all things of literature and art; giving painting its 
tone, architecture its harmony, and poetry its rhythm. 
It has been beautifully said, that " Music is the voice 
of God and poetry his language^' 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 115 

Words being of truth, are divided into many dia- 
lects, and nations cannot understand each other's 
speech ; and so it is with the opinions and doctrines 
of mankind. But the affections are everywhere the 
same; and music, being their voice, is a nniversal 
mediian between human hearts, exciting the same 
emotions in the Itahan and the Swede. 

Everywhere, down to the minutest details, the du- 
ality recurs. In written music, there are signs for 
intonation, and signs for duration; intonation re- 
lating to space, or the affections, and duration to 
time, or truth. Soprano is feminine, and bass is 
masculine; but take woman's voice alone, and it di- 
vides into soprano and contralto; and man's voice 
divides into tenor and bass. Soprai\o is the voice ol 
woman's affections, and contralto of woman's intel- 
lect. Tenor is the voice of man's affections, and bass 
of his intellect. Soprano is an octave higher than 
tenor, and contralto an octave higlier than bass; for 
the feminine principle, which represents the affec- 
tions and moral sentiments, is always higher than 
the masculine or intellectual principle, which is 
characterized by breadth. Every class of instru- 
ments has representatives of the masculine and fem- 
inine principle; thus, the trumpet is the soprano of 
the horns, and the bassoon, or fagotto, is the bass of 
the oboes. The Air in music relates to the affections 
or sentiments, and the accompaniments to truth. 
Hence the Air is the soul, or pervading essence of 
every musical composition. If you analyze the mind, 
genius represents the transcending, infusing power, 
.and skill the ultimate form or foundation. Skill may 
produce agreeable accords, but it requires genius to 
compose an expressive air. The human voice, in re- 
lation to instrumental music, represents the affec- 
tions, and the instruments the intellect, or thought. 
Hence the air is intrusted to the voice. 

Among instruments, the violin represents the hu- 
man voice, which, of all instruments, it most nearly 



116 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

resembles, in the infinite variety of its intonations. 
In purely instrumental music, therefore, the air is 
composed on the violin, and passes into the contralto 
and bass instruments, as the moral sentiments pass 
into all things of intellect and science, modulating 
their whole expression. The bass sometimes leads 
the Air temporarily, as a man of intellect preaches 
for doctrine what somebody else has loved and lived ; 
but in both these cases, the bass, or the scientific plane, 
originally received the Air from something of higher 
tone than itself 

Eastern nations do not understand harmony, and 
they believe that women are without souls, made to 
be the slaves of men. When women are their com- 
panions and friends, harmony vvnll come into their 
music, and their grotesque and distorted forms of art 
will acquire symmetry and grace. In the Persian 
music it is said that a European ear can distinguish 
nothing like an Air; and that fact alone would of it- 
self sufficiently indicate the absence of an elevated 
pervading moral sentiment, gradually bringing sci- 
ence and social life into harmony with itself, as we 
see in Christian countries. 

All nations of Caucasian origin have an alphabet 
that represents sounds; but those descended from 
the Malay race have never attained to alphabetic 
writing. The Chinese, who are the most civilized of 
them, use an alphabet of taords, or signs of things^ 
not of separate sounds. There is the same complica- 
tion in their musical signs. They express collections 
of sound by a single sign, instead of separating them 
into their simple elements. This indicates the ab- 
sence of analysis, and of course no progress in art or 
science. 

One cannot easily define the relation between po- 
litical and social changes, and the character of mu- 
sic : yet whoever observes them well, will see that 
they always bear most expressive relation to each 
other. In Gothic times arose the Fugue, a musical 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 117 

composition which has been thus described : ''It goes 
circling upward, hke a many-tongued Hame, always 
aspiring, never finished, telling of more and more 
that it would be. There are innumerable voices and 
airs winding and blending into one another, and lead- 
ing you into the depths and mysterious mazes of a 
vast animated whole." How strikingly is this in 
keeping with the architecture of those times, and 
how expressive are both of the dim, superstitious, 
mystical sentiment of the age. 

Before the Protestant reformation, music, as well 
as literature, was mostly shut up in the church, and 
masses and anthems, like monkish books, were elab- 
orately learned and artificial. But before the begin- 
ning of the seventeenth century, popular airs, which 
people sang at their work, and by the wayside, the 
melodies of a nation's heart, began to be arranged 
and harmonized. Mnsic glided out of church and 
monastery into the free air of social life, and became 
the opera. Literature did the same, and took form 
in drama and novel ; which, like the opera, are ideal- 
isations of the joys, sorrows, and passions of private 
fife. 

Who does not hear, in the Marseilles Hymn, the 
voice of a whole nation on the eve of revolution 1 

" When civic renovation 
Dawns on a kingdom, and for needful haste 
Best eloquence avails not, inspiration 
Mounts with a tune, that travels like a blast 
Piping through cave and battlemented tower ; 
Then starts the sluggard — pleased to meet 
That voice of freedom, in its power 
Of promises, shrill, wild, and sweet." 

Formerly the Air reigned absolute, and the accom- 
paniments were trifling and altogether subordinate ap- 
pendages; but in modern times, the orchestra has 
been constantly increasing in importance. Now, 
every instrument is an individual character, every 



118 LETTERS FROM NEV>r-YORK. 

one has its say, each one attracts attention in turn, 
and according as it is more or less prominent, the 
whole expression of the piece is changed. It could 
not be otherwise with music in this age, which has 
been most significantly called All Souls' Day ; when 
men no longer receive from reverence or authority, 
but each one judges of truth for himself, and speaks 
of it for himself. 

That which orchestral music is aiming at, and ap- 
proaching nearer and nearer to, is to combine infinite 
variety into perfect unity ; to have each class of in- 
struments distinct, yet so to mingle and work togeth- 
er, by harmony or contrast, that one soul shall per- 
vade the whole. Believers in human progress will 
need no interpretation of the prophecy contained in 
this. They will see that music, too, is praying for 
" the kingdom to come on earth, as it is in heaven." 

It would be easy to follow out these resemblances 
to a great length. To some minds they would seem 
mere idle and absurd fancies; to others, they would 
be full of beauty and truth. Those who do not per- 
ceive the intimate relation between the sentiments of 
a nation, or a sect, and the expression of its music, 
would perhaps be convinced if they were to listen to 
Catholic chants and chorusses, and then to the tunes 
in a Universalist place of worship. 

Swedenborg says that the number seven contains 
the whole, in a universal sense ; and musicians have 
agreed that beyond seven sounds, arranged in partic- 
ular order, either ascending or descending, the rest 
are merely reproduced in the same order. The 
eighth, or octave, begins again, and repeats the same 
sounds, with merely the difference that there is be- 
tween a high and low voice. If we could disentan- 
gle the infinite complexities of creation, I believe we 
should find that each subdivision of nature contains 
the whole, repeated by the others in higher or lower 
keys. Of course, all these ascending and descending 
circles would chord at intervals. 



LETTERS FROM NEV/-YORK. 119 

Between music and painting, the connexion is so 
obvious, that the terms of the two arts are full of 
it. Men talk of the tone and harmony of a picture, 
and of light and shade in the sounds of an instru- 
ment. The chromatic scale derives its name from 
the Greek word chroma^ which signifies colour; 
and the sounds of a good orchestra might easily sug- 
gest harmony of colours, even to a mind not very 
imaginative. 

In printed music, observe the predominance of the 
waving line of sound ; it is the undulating line of 
grace and beauty in architecture and sculpture. If 
we could trace the analogy distinctly and clearly, as 
superior intelligences can, we should perhaps per- 
ceive that Moorish architecture was composed in E 
major, as plainly as any of Haydn's music ; and that 
the architecture of the 15th century was, like its pre- 
vailing music, in the key of F and D minor. 

Not between the arts alone is there this repetition 
of the same sounds on higher and lower keys. It 
pervades all creation, from the highest to the lowest, 
and fills every detail of nature and science with liv- 
ing significance. Thus mathematical proportions 
express the intervals of music, and precisely the same 
figures mark tlie distances of the planets. 

" The heavens, whose aspect makes our minds as slill 

As they themselves appear to be, 

Innumerable voices fill 

With everlasting harmony ; 

The towering headlands, crowned with mist. 

Their feet among the billows, know 

That ocean is a mighty harmonist. 

Thy pinions, universal air, 

Ever waving to and fro, 

Are delegates of harmony, and bear 

Straius that support the seasons in their round." 

And all this complexity of creation, this infinite 
variety flowing from unity, is in the soul of man ; 



# 



120 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

and if it were not there, it conld not be in creation. 
If there were not hope and memory in the human 
soul, there would be no Major and Minor mode in 
music ; for the Major and Minor modes are the Hope 
and Memory of sound. 

Pardon me that I draw my illustrations so largely 
from music. I am prone to write of whatever my 
mind is full; and for three or four yeafs past, 
everything has spoken to me of music, and music 
has spoken to me of everything. The phenomena 
of light and optics likewise abound with significant 
illustrations of spiritual correspondence. That light 
represents the universal influx of truth, is so plain, 
that in all languages, and from time immemorial, 
it has been spoken in metaphor. " To see the truth," 
" to receive light on a subject," are common expres- 
sions. Light is dual; for it is always accompanied 
with warmth, which is of the aflections; and there- 
fore it vivifies and produces growth, as well as makes 
growth visible. In its origin, too, we find the femi- 
nine producing principle ; for 

" A voice to light gave being." 

Whoever can wisely trace spiritual analogies 
through optics and colours, will find themselves in a 
mansion of glories, where all manner of beautiful 
forms are outlined with rainbows. I will allude but 
to one analogy, as I pass along. Light is one and 
unchangeable, but the objects on which it shines ab- 
sorb and reflect its rays so variously, that modifica- 
tions of colour therefrom are infinite. It is precisely 
so with truth, in its action on human souls. Truth 
is one and unchangeable, but no two minds receive 
it alike ; hence the innumerable colourings and sha- 
dings of human opinion. They might all be as har- 
monious as the instruments of a good orchestra ; but 
terrible discord arises from the supposition of each 
one that it engrosses truth to itself, and a consequent 
desire to drown or overtop other voices. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 121 

When metaphors in language are particularly im- 
pressive in their beauty, it is an indication that they 
are founded in the real relation between things natu- 
ral and spiritual. When I read, in some of Margaret 
Fuller's writings, "Wine is earth's answer to the 
sun," I smiled with pleasure, as I would at the sight 
of a beautiful flower, or gem. I saw that the analo- 
gy lay deeper than fancy. To speak in musical 
phrase, I heard a harmonious chord in this compari- 
son. Wine, as drink^ represents truth, as the sun does 
by its light; but its liquid warmth is like the heat of 
the sun. Its colour and its glow indicate the predomi- 
nance of the sentiments, affections, or passions. Hence, 
wine kindles the imagination, excites and elevates 
the feelings, and throws off all caution and disguise. 
Hence, too, its excess is inflaming and unhealthy. 

Water so obviously represents truth, that men have 
always talked of streams of knowledge, and foun- 
tains of wisdom ; but it is plainly a type of truth in 
a less universal sense than light. As light imparts 
colour according to the quality of the thing that re- 
ceives it, so water takes its form from whatever con- 
tains it. Like the spiritual idea they signify, they 
cannot be monopolized by men, but must forever re- 
main universal gifts. It is true that water is some- 
times sold by the gallon, in cities, and theological 
sects and teachers sell doctrines to some minds. But 
these are local deviations from a universal law. 
Neither truth nor water are changed by the limited 
and temporary monopoly ; though unless the vessels 
are kept very clean, the purchasers will buy disease 
with their draught. 

Water rises and expands under the action of heat, 
as truth does under the influence of the moral senti- 
ments. Perhaps steam could not have been used to 
diminish the obstructions of space and time, as it 
now does, had not an increasing feeling of the bro- 
therhood of man entered into the philosophy, litera- 
ture, and politics of the age, elevating and enlarging 



122 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

theories, opinions, and laws, and diminishing the 
spiritual distances between men. 

As water cannot be forced above its level, so the 
opinions and laws of ^ people never rise above their 
idea of God; but whatever is the real internal idea 
of the Divine Being, to that level, literature, educa- 
tion, and law, Avill rise through all obstructions. 

Swedenborg defines the correspondence of oil, as 
''the holy principle of the Good of Love." Such a 
type we should of course expect to be smooth and 
gliding, inflammable, and always rising above water. 
Its tendency to abate the raging of the waves is well 
known; and whoever tries the spiritual principle it 
represents, will find that it has the same power to 
calm the tempestuous soul of an angry man. That 
all truths, above the merely natural and scientific, 
are seen more and more clearly in proportion to the 
pure state of the afiTections, will be readily admitted 
by all observers of the inward growth of the soul. 
It is likewise a fact that oil poured upon water, 
makes it lucid to its remotest depths, so that all sub- 
stances in it can be distinctly seen. A traveller in 
Turkey writes thus: "I was aware that oil would 
calm the surface of the sea; but I did not know, un- 
til recently, that it rendered objects more distinct be- 
neath the surface. A trinket of some value had been 
dropped out of the upper windows of our palace into 
the Bosphorus ; which at this place was ten or tw^elve 
feet deep. It was so small, that dragging for it would 
have been perfectly fruitless ; it was accordingly 
given up for lost, when one of the servants proposed 
to drop a little oil on the surface. This was acceded 
to, though with faint hopes of success. To our as- 
tonishment, the trinket immediately appeared in sight, 
and was eventually recovered." 

Priceless, altogether infinite in value, are the spir- 
itual jewels that might be restored to the world, by 
pouring oil upon the troubled waves. 

Garments represent truth; and the '' philosophy of 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 123 

clothes " is therefore not without meaning. In East- 
ern nations, where despotic government, and theo- 
logical belief in fatalism, stop the progress of human 
thought, opinions change not, and the fashion of gar- 
ments is unvarying. But in Prance, where churches 
and governments are demolished and rebuilt in three 
days, the modes of dress are alwa^^s changing. In 
America, we borrow our fashions from older nations, 
and mostly do the same with our thoughts. 

I have spoken of the constant recurrence of dual- 
ity ; but it is equally true, though not equally obvi- 
ous in all particulars, that where there are two, there 
occurs a third, the ultimate plane of both. Thus in 
man, love, wisdom, and life ; or will, understanding, 
and action. There are three primal colours, red, 
blue, and yellow. In music the perfect chord is com- 
posed of three notes. Animals, vegetables, and min- 
erals, are the primaries, mediates, and ultimates, of 
things on the earth. Fountain, river, and sea, bear 
the same relation to each other. The rivers are me- 
diates to convey spiritual truth, from the divine foun- 
tain, into natural and scientific truth. The sea is, in 
this relation, what bass is in music; the ultimate 
form, or scientific basis. Among minerals, iron is the 
ultimate ; and the amount used by a nation indicates 
very truly their cultivation in sciences and mechani- 
cal arts. 

I have told you that I long ago found in the wri- 
tings of Swedenborg the golden key that unlocks 
these mysteries, and that my mind has been more or 
less busy with it ever since. Very often, when I had 
no recollection what his definition was, I have, by« 
reflecting on the uses and properties of some natural ! 
substance, conjectured what its spiritual signification 
must be: and upon examination, I have usually 
found that my conjecture was the same as his state- 
ment. I never but once successfully reversed the 
process. Once, I began with a remote spiritual cor- 
respondence, and descended from it into an ultimate 



124 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

scientific law in music, the existence of which I had 
not previously known. By following space and time 
through several windings of spiritual analogy, I 
came to the conclusion that the tone of a note must 
depend on its place in the staff; that mere points 
would answer as well as anything else for this pur- 
pose, and therefore the diiferetit shape of the notes 
must be to mark duration, or time. 1 examined the 
rules of notation in music, and found that it was so; 
but I was peculiarly delighted with this small addi- 
tion to knowledge, because I arrived at it from the 
upper road. 

I need not inform you that glimpses of the relation 
between natural and spiritual things have been seen 
by reflecting and poetic souls, in all ages. It runs 
a bright thread of metaphor through the web of all 
languages, and sparkles like sun-points in the poetry 
of all times. The Pythagoreans said that '' the One, 
from which all things flow, and to which all things 
ultimately tend, is Good." Plato says, "What light 
and sight are in the visible world, truth and knowl- 
edge are in the world of intelligences." Again he 
says, "God is truth, and light is his shadow." 

You will see that I have made no attempt to give 
a comprehensive view of correspondence. In stating 
my conviction that it is a genuine, though almost un- 
known science, I have written without eflbrt, as I 
would have talked. From the fragments which thus 
glanced upon my mind, you may judge what shi- 
ning gems, and rich veins of ore, might be found by 
souls that have capacity to see the whole in every 
part. That there must be immense complication in 
the science, you will perceive if you reflect that the 
good and tlie true mirror themselves in all the varie- 
ties of creation, and all have a reversed image in the 
evil and the false. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 125 



LETTER XIII. 

April 24th, 1844. 

You ask me what is transcendentalism, and what 
do transcendentaUsts beUeve ? It is a question diffi- 
cnh, nay, impossible, to answer; for the minds so 
classified are incongruous individuals, without any 
creed. The name is in fact applied to everything 
new, strange, and unaccountable. If a man is a 
non-conformist to established creeds and opinions, 
and expresses his dissent in a manner ever so slightly 
peculiar, he is called a transcendentalist. It is in- 
deed amusing to see how easily one may acquire this 
title. A southern lady lately said to a friend of mine, 
''I knew you were a transcendentalist the first half 
hour I heard you talk." "How so?" inquired my 
friend. " Oh, it is easy enough to be seen by your 
peculiar phrases.'' '' Indeed ! I had thought my 
language was very plain and natural. Pray what 
transcendental phrase have I used?" "The first 
time I ever saw you, you spoke of a person at the 
North as unusually gifted ; and I have often since 
heard you use other transcendental expressions." 

If you wish to know the origin of the word trans- 
cendentalism, I will explain it, briefly and simply, as 
I understand it. 

All, vv^ho know anything of the difl'erent schools of 
metaphysics, are aware that the philosophy of John 
Locke was based on the proposition that cdl knowl- 
edge is received into the soul through the medium 
of the senses ; and thence passes id be judged of and 
analyzed by the understanding. 

The German school of metaphysics, with the cele- 
brated Kant at its head, rejects this proposition as 
false ; it denies that all knowledge is received through 
the senses, and maintains that the liighest, and there- 
fore most universal truths, are revealed within the 
11% 



126 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

soul, to a faculty transcending the understanding. 
This faculty they call pure Reason ; it being peculiar 
to them to use that word in contradistinction to the 
Understanding. To this pure Reason, which some 
of their writers call "The God within," they beheve 
that all perceptions of the Good, the True, and the 
Beautiful, are revealed, in its unconscious quietude ; 
and that the province of the Understanding, with its 
five handmaids, the Senses, is confined merely to ex- 
ternal things, such as facts, scientific laws, &c. 

This idea of an inwardly revealing faculty, trans- 
cending mere intellectual perception, will naturally 
remind many of the '' inward voice," believed in by 
the Society of Friends. In fact, the two phrases arc 
different aspects of the same idea. The Quakers saw 
it through a religious medium, Kant in a light purely 
philosophic. — Closely connected with this idea is the 
doctrine of the inspiration of the Scriptures ; a doc- 
trine concerning which the most confused and unset- 
tled notions prevail, even among those who would 
be most shocked at being charged with any doubts 
upon the subject. It is this idea, which leads some 
to inquire, "Did Paul mean the same thing as the 
Transcendentalists, or the Quakers, when he made 
a distinction between what he wrote of himself^ and 
what was given him to write?" 

Unitarianism does not involve transcendentalism : 
on the contrary, it often cherishes an extreme aver- 
sion to it. But, generally speaking, minds inchned 
to transcendentalism are of Unitarian habits of 
thought. The cause is obvious enough. Both 
judge the recorded facts of Revelation by the light of 
Reason ; and in 'no case acknowledge the authority 
of Revelation over Reason; believing, only when 
Reason and Revelation seem to them coincident. 

The more popular and common forms of theology 
have a natural affinity with the metaphysics of 
Locke. — That is, certain things witnessed by the 
senses, and recorded as miraculous facts, are consid- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 127 

ored sufficient reasons for believing everything ut- 
tered by those who performed the miracles. Those 
who presume to judge of Revelation by Reason may, 
and generally do, believe the miracles of Christ, as 
recorded facts ; but they could not believe in the doc- 
trines of Christ because he worked miracles. 

There is slight resemblance between Quakers and 
Transcendentalists. The former abjure imagination 
and the Arts, and love to enclose everything within 
prescribed rules and regulations. The latter luxuri- 
ate in the beautiful, and their theories are so expan- 
sive and indefinite, that they remind one of the old 
story of transmigration, in which a philosopher, being 
asked what form he would like to have hi^ disem- 
bodied soul enter, answered, "Form in general; no 
form in particular." 

But the doctrine of perpetual revelation, heard in 
the quietude of the soul, produces one similar result 
in both. Neither of them favour the activity of re- 
forms. The Q,aaker wishes " Israel to remain in his 
tents;" his cure for evils is to '-keep in the quiet." 
The transcendentalist phrases it otherwise; he ad- 
vises " to lie still in the spiritual sunshine, and grow." 
Neither are fond of the maxim, that "action strikes 
fiery light from the rocks it has to hew through." 

The style of writing characteristic of Transcend- 
entalists has excited much merriment, and more 
wonder. That which is ideally uttered has deeper 
significance, than is usually apprehended by intelli- 
gent minds unaccustomed to similar habits of thought; 
but it has an oracular and mystical sound, because 
they rather announce^ than argue^ what seems to them 
truth. This comes of their doctrine of intuitive per- 
ception. It is the business of the understanding, tliey 
say, to analyze, compare, and prove; but reason re- 
veals. Therefore, there is about their writings "a 
tone and colour sui generis ; something of tlie clear 
and the mysterious, like the sea in a beautiful day in 
Slimmer. A light, colJ and colourless, pierces the 



128 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

liquid mass, giving it a certain transparency that 
captivates the eye, but which imports that tJbere is 
always, at the bottom, a mystery unexplained." 

Imitations of Transcendentalism are unquestiona- 
bly the most contemptible form of affectation and 
sham. Parrots laying claim to Edward Irving's in- 
spired gift of tongues, would be wisdom compared 
with it. This class of superficial and artificial 
writers are best described by Daniel O'Connell's 
witty remark concerning certain public speakers : 
'' They are men who aim at nothing, and hit it." 

It is true that some of the profoundest of the tran- 
scendentalists are a little too fond of the impersonal 
abstraction it. This it often seems to be something 
'•without form and void, and darkness on the face 
of it." Not long ago, one of this fraternity said to 
me, "Why do we rummage about v/ith memor}'' in 
the past, to find out our v/hereabout and our what- 
about? It is because we are not true to ourselves, is 
it not 7 If we were true to ourselves, we should have 
no need to rummage about with memory in the past, 
to find out our v/hereabout, and our whatabout; for 
it would be with us, we should be z7." 

However, this obscurity with regard to the "where- 
about and whatabout," is not an exclusive peculiar- 
ity of the modern school. Old Dr. Bentley. fomerly 
of Salem, Mass., once took for his text, "It is his 
spirit;" and began his sermon thus : "The sympa- 
thy of our loves is the ideal presence: and this with 
full consent in its best effects." 

New- York is in too much of a hurry scurry all the 
time, to "lie still in the sunshine" and ripen such 
fruit as either transcendental philosophy, or its pov- 
erty-stricken imitations. It never enters into the 
head of a Wall-street merchant, that he is, as a friend 
of ours asserts, "personally responsible for the ob- 
liquity of the earth's axis." 

"Transcendental muslins" I have often seen ad- 
vertised in the Bowery; but I have rarely met with 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 129 

transcendentalism in any other form, in this city. I 
did once, out of pure mischief, send a politician and 
an active man of business to a house, where I knew 
they would encounter three or four of these disciples, 
who occasionally ride a pretty high horse. When 
they came back, I asked with a sober face, what they 
had talked about. They said they did not know ; 
but being unmercifully urged to tell something that 
was said, the politician at last answered: "One of 
them divided man into three states ; the disconscious, 
the conscious, and the unconscious. The dlscon- 
scious is the state of a pig ; the conscious is the bap- 
tism by water ; and the z/y^conscious is the baptism 
by fire." " How did the conversation impress your 
mind?" said I, restraining a smile. "Why, after I 
had heard them talk a few minutes," replied he, "I'll 
be hanged if I knew whether I had any mind." 

I then asked the man of business how he had been 
edified. " My head aches," said he; " they have put 
my mind and body both in a confounded muss." 

You must know that " muss" is a favourite phrase 
with New-Yorkers, to express everything that is in 
a state of confusion. Not only mountains, but mole- 
hills, here bring forth a "rldicidus mus.^^ 

Being in a tormenting mood, I insisted that my 
friend should give some account of the conversation. 

Thus urged, he at last replied, " Why, one of them 
seemed to think there was some connection between 
mind and body ; but as for the rest, so far as I could 
understand them, they all seemed to thhik the body 
was nothing but a sham." 

I am sometimes called a transcendentalist myself/' 
perhaps because I use the phrase "highly gifted.'', 
But I acknowledged considerable sympathy with the 
perplexed politician and man of business. For there 
are people, very intellectual ones too, who mystify 
me in the strangest fashion. After talking with them, 
my spirit always has to bite its finger, to know 
whether it exists or not; and even then, the question 



130 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

arises whether a sensation is a sensation. As for the 
received axiom that ^'a thing cannot be and not be, at 
the same time," they always set it twirhng. 

If asked to explain themselves, they answer with 
Jean Paul, "probably God knows what I meant, but 
I have forgotten." 



LETTER XIV. 

May 15, 1844 

Wandering over the fields between Hoboken and 
Weehawken, I came upon the loveliest little clump 
of violets, nestling in the hollow of an old moss- 
grown stump. The joy they gave me, you could 
not imagine unless you had long been shut up in a 
city. Their fragrance and beauty, the genial air, 
the open sunlight, the little zephyrs playing at shut- 
tlecock with the dried leaves about my feet, all 
greeted me like the smile of a friend. And the little 
cluster of violets had many pleasant things to say to 
me, too. They spoke of an unknown friend, who 
sends from Cambridge, Massachusetts, the very 
earliest flowers of spring, and the very latest of au- 
tumn, directed " To the Author of Letters from N. 
York." It is the most tasteful compliment I ever re- 
ceived ; except once, when I was visiting in a town 
where I was a stranger, some children brought a 
basket of flowers, "for the lady who writes stories 
for us." I hope I am a better woman, for the offer- 
ing of those innocent little ones, and for the flowers 
that come and speak to me so kindly of my own dis- 
tant and beloved New-England. If you can find the 
giver of the graceful offering, tell him the bouquet of 
Gentians came to me as fresh as young affections ; 
and for a fortnight they continued to open their beau- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 131 

tiful blue eyes to the sunshine, and close their long 
graceful fringes in evening sleep. 

The first flowers and the last indicate just the mis- 
sion 1 should like to perform. I would ofljer Flowers 
for Children at the outset of life, and wreathe a bright 
crown of Immortelles for the Cross at its close. To the 
young I would speak joyfully, to the old cheerfully, to 
all hopefully. Would that I could drop lilies and roses 
along the path of every human brother and sister. 

Those violets by the mossy stump reminded me 
of one who was, as I should like to be, as truly a 
child when she returned to the bosom of her Father, 
as when he first sent her forth to make the pilgrim- 
age of time. I allude to Hannah Adams, the simple- 
hearted old lady, so well remembered as the earliest 
writer among the women of New-England. The 
last time I called upon her, I carried her a bunch of 
fresh violets ; and I well remember the eager pleas- 
ure with which she received them. I was a young 
girl, and she was aged ; but her joy was as vivid as 
mine, and her face mantled with smiles, as she 
greeted the beloved flowers. '' Oh, this reminds me 
of my visit to the country, last spring," said she. 
" Everything looked so beautiful ! It seemed to me 
as if the world was just created." 

I never saw an old person, the expression of whose 
face was so innocent and infantine as hers. Any 
cosmetic that could produce this effect would sell 
high in the market. But the spirit never yields its 
beautiful gifts to any such process of jugglery. 
They who would retain a fresh old age, must love 
nature with a genuine love, and be simple, cheerful, 
and kindly, even as little children. 

Hannah Adams struggled with poverty in her 
youth, and being feeble in health, and of a sensitive 
temperament, she hid herself in life's shadiest coverts, 
and held communion only with nature and with 
books. This gave a trniid constraint to her manner, 
which she could not overcome in later life, when she 



132 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

was accustomed to attention from the wealthy and 
distinguished; but in this there was a certain some- 
thing not altogether ungraceful, like the awkward- 
ness of a child. 

Her uncommon learning, her diffidence, and oc- 
casional abstraction of mind, gave rise to innumera- 
ble anecdotes. These stories sometimes returned to 
her, and increased the constraint of her manner, by 
inducing a troublesome consciousness of being unlike 
other people. Once, when she was going on a short 
excursion, in her old age, she was repeatedly charged 
to count the articles of her baggage, and by no means 
to forget that she carried three. A gentleman in the 
stage, when he saw the learned Hannah Adams 
enter, expected a rich treat in her conversation ; but to 
his great disappointment, the only words she uttered 
during the whole ride, were " Basket, bundle, and box, 
basket, bundle, and box,'' frequently repeated. She at- 
tended Dr. Channing's church, and had great personal 
respect for him. Sometimes, when his sermons pecu- 
liarly interested her, she would become so absorbed in 
listening, that she unconsciously rose by degrees, and 
leaning forward over the pew, would gaze at the 
preacher with an expression of delight so intense, 
that it excited a smile in those who observed her. 
One day, she was seen knocking at the meeting- 
house door, and being asked why she did it, she re- 
plied that she wanted to see Dr. Channing. When 
informed that tlie church was closed on week-days, 
and that she would be more likely to find him at his 
house, she very quietly followed the direction, saying 
she wondered she had not thought of that before. 

A friend was one day visiting at a house where 
some stranger guests expressed great curiosity to see 
Hannah Adams ; and to gratify them she offered to 
go and invite her to tea. The old lady accepted the 
invitation with the simple gladness of a child, and 
was soon ready to accompany her kind guide. The 
wind was in rather an active mood, and nearly blew 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 133 

off her bonnet. When they entered the house, they 
passed into a room, on one side of which were mir- 
ror-windows. The lady, perceiving that Miss Adams's 
cap was awry, led her up to the mirror to adjust it. 
But she was so httle accustomed to view her own 
face, that she supposed a stranger stood before her, 
and bobbing a httle cliild-hke courtesy, she said, in 
all simplicity, "How do you do, ma'am ?" " 1 want 
you to look and see if your cap is right," said her 
friend, smiling. But Miss Adams, supposing herself 
introduced again, dropped another courtesy, and re- 
peated, "How do you do, ma'am?" It was some 
minutes before she was enabled clearly to compre- 
hend that she stood before a mirror, and was courte- 
seying to her own image. 

Such indications of an absent mind, though they 
were not of frequent occurrence, were of course 
busily repeated and often exaggerated. For in those 
days, intellectual accomplishments were so rare, that 
a woman who had fitted several boys for college, 
was considered as great a prodigy as the learned pig, 
that could spell his own name. Even m our own 
day, a carpenter being informed that the model of 
the house he was building was planned by a 
woman, exclaimed in astonishment, " Why, I de- 
clare, she knows e en-a -most as much as some men !" 
Those who knew him and the highly cultivated and 
intellectual woman, who planned the building, found 
his condescending acknowledgment of an "e'e«-a'- 
TYiosV^ equality sufficiently comic. 

The prejudice agamst literary women was then 
much stronger than now. Some one happened to 
remark that they wondered Hannah Adams had 
never been married, for she was really a very sensi- 
ble and pleasant woman. "Marry Hannah Adams !" 
exclaimed a gentleman, who was present; " why I 
should as soon think of marrying my Greek Gram- 
mar." Yet the good lady was not at all like a 
Greek grammar. She was full of kindly thoughts 
12 



134 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

and gentle affections, innocent as a child, and truth- 
ful as the sun. That she felt constrained, and not 
at home in the world, was more the fault of society 
in being too artificial, than hers in being too natural 
and simple. 

It is true, that circumstances in early life had too 
much fostered her love of seclusion, and of intellect- 
ual culture. Habits of practical skill, and conve- 
nient self-help, must be formed in early life, or they 
will never be thoroughly acquired. Stewart says 
truly that " the cultivation of any one part of our 
character, such as exclusive attention to the culture 
of taste, the argumentative powers, or even to the re- 
finement of moral feeling, is always more or less 
hazardous." Bacon has the following fine passage 
on the same idea: "In forming the human charac- 
ter, we must not proceed as a sculptor does in form- 
ing a statue, who works sometimes on the face, 
sometimes on the limbs, and sometimes on the folds 
of the garments. But we must proceed, and it is in 
our power to proceed, as nature does in forming a 
flower, or any other of her productions. She throws 
out altogether, and at once, the whole system of 
being, and the rudiments of all the parts." 

The want of self-reliance, and what in New-Eng- 
land is called "faculty" about common things, was 
partly to be attributed to Miss Adams's delicate 
health, and timid temperament, and partly to the 
ever- watchful care of an afiectionate elder sister, who 
ministered to her wants, and supplied her deficiencies. 
Thus early accustomed to lean upon a stronger na- 
ture, she was like a vine deprived of its support, 
when this beloved relative passed into the world of 
vspirits, and left her alone, at the age of thirty-five. 

In the last interview I had with her, she spoke 
much of this sister. "Never," said she, "was there 
a stronger friendship than existed between us. Eliz- 
abeth was my guide, my friend, my earthly all. We 
shared the same apartment for years. I had no 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 135 

thought concealed from her. The bond of affection 
was so strong, that to part with Ufa seemed as noth- 
ing compared to parting with her." 

" I have been told," said I, " that you think you 
once saw the spirit of this dear sister." 

•'I cannot say that I believe it," she replied. "I 
have no superstition about me, and I am very unwil- 
ling to believe marvellous things. But I have never 
felt quite clear about the circumstances of the case 
to which you allude. During my sister's illness, we 
talked much together of our approaching separation, 
and of the probable state of the soul hereafter. We 
enquired anxiously Avhether we should know each 
other in that spirit world ? Would she be able to see 
what I was doing and thinking on earth '? During 
these conversations, my sister said, with solemn 
earnestness, ' Dear Hannah, if spirits are permitted 
to visit those they have loved on earth, I will give 
you some visible token that I am near you. Would 
you be afraid of me?' I told her I could not be 
afraid of Aer, and that it would be most pleasant to 
me to have her come. I thought so then ; but after 
my sister died, the recollection of what she had said 
produced an undefined feeling of fear, when I was in 
solitude and darkness. However, weeks and months 
passed, and my vague superstition grew weaker and 
weaker.^ At last, it occurred to my mind only in the 
form of wonder that I could ever have allowed my- 
self to be thus excited. 

"One night, I sat up, as I often did, reading until 
midnight. After I had extinguished my light and 
retired to rest, I remained wakeful for some time. 
My mind was serene and cheerful ; and I do not 
recollect that my thoughts were in any way occu- 
pied with my sister. Presently, my attention was ar- 
rested by a dimly luminous cloud, not far from the bed. 
I looked out, to see whether a light from another cham- 
ber of the house was reflected on my window ; but 
all was darkness. I again turned to my pillow, and 



136 LETTERS FR0:M NEW-YORK. 

saw that the luminous appearance was brighter, and 
visibly increased in size. The shutters of our old- 
fashioned house had holes in the middle, in the shape 
of a heart. I thought it must be that the moonlight 
streamed through one of these, and perhaps shone on 
some white garment, hanging on the wall. I rose 
and felt of the wall, but there was nothing there. I 
looked out of the window, and saw only a cloudy 
midnight sky, with here and there a solitary star. 
^When I returned to bed, and still saw the unaccount- 
able column of light, then, for the first time, a feeling 
of awe came over me. I had hitherto thought only 
of natural causes ; but now a vague idea of the su- 
pernatural began to oppress me. My sister's promise 
occurred to my mind, and made me afraid. A trembling 
came over me, as 1 watched the light, and saw it be- 
come more and more distinct. It was not like moon- 
light, or sunlight. I cannot describe it better than 
by comparing it to a brilliant lamp, shining through 
thin, clear, white muslin. It gradually assumed 
shape, and there slowly emerged from it the outlines 
of my sister's face and figure. The very strings of 
her cap, tied in a bow under her chin, were distinctly 
visible. A terrible fear weighed upon my heart, like 
the night-mare; and I screamed aloud. This brought 
some of the family to me, in great alarm ; but before 
they entered, the light had vanished. When I told 
the story, they said I had been asleep and dream- 
ing. I felt perfectly sure that I had been wide 
awake ; but they said I was mistaken. Friends, to 
whom I mentioned it afterward, said that if I were 
indeed awake, it must have been a nervous delusion ; 
and though I never had a nerve in my life, I sup- 
posed it must be so." 

I remarked that physicians called all such phe- 
nomena nervous, delusions ; and that many seemed 
to accept the phrase as a satisfactory explanation ; 
but that to my mind it did not in the least diminish 
the mystery. Hoiv was it that disordered nerves 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 137 

produced visions? With what eyes did nervous per- 
sons see objects, that were invisible to the natural 
senses? Grant that it was an image from the mind, 
how did the nerves paint it on the air? 

"I cannot tell," replied Miss Adams. "I do not 
think there is any use in puzzling ourselves with 
these questions. I was somewhat ashamed of my 
terror, and was willing enough to have the blame 
laid on my nerves. Still, I should have been glad to 
have found some white garment hanging on the wall, 
next morning, that my incredulity might have been 
satisfied with proof that the whole was an illusion 
of my natural senses, aided by imagination. They 
wished me to have some one sleep in my apartment ; 
but I was indignant at being supposed the victim of 
childish fears. My courage returned. I said, ' If 
my good sister did come to me, her errand was sure- 
ly a kind one, and why should I have been afraid ?' 
After they left me for the night, I almost wished that 
the vision, if it were indeed my sister, would come 
again. I fell asleep, and dreamed of sweet inter- 
course with her; but the luminous shadow never 
came again. I cannot say whether it were dream or 
vision; the subject has always puzzled me." 

I asked the old lady if she had never been sorry 
th.at fear prevented her from speaking to the appear- 
ance of her sister ? 

" Yes, I have been very sorry," she replied. " But 
had she appeared twenty times, perhaps I should 
never liave mustered courage to speak first, which I 
understand is the established etiquette on such occa- 
.sions." 

I tell the story as she told it to me, without ofi'ering 
explanation. A singular mixture of belief and scep- 
ticism ran through her whole account; as if the fear 
of being deemed superstitious were continually with 
her, and mocked at the distinctness of her own im- 
pressions. Those familiar with the phenomena of 
animal magnetism will not dismiss the multitude of 
12^ 



138 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Stories of this kind as mere inventions of disordered 
brains. If they are wise, they will rather conclnde 
that the relations between spirit and matter are gov- 
erned by laws now mysterious, but which may here- 
after be clear to the eye of reason. A few centuries 
ago, our most common experiments in science would 
have been deemed magical. And the present age, 
with all its self-conscious progress, is not half so wise 
as it deems itself. 

Hannah Adams died at the age of seventy-six. 
She was the first person buried at Mount Auburn ; 
where a very neat monument was erected to her 
memory, bearing the following inscription, as nearly 
as I recollect it: " Hannah Adams, the Historian of 
the Jews, the Biographer of the Christian Sects, and 
the First Tenant of Mount Auburn." 

A Boston lawyer, noted for technical accuracy in 
his profession, remarked, as he read this epitaph, 
"She cannot properly be called a tenant.''^ 



LETTER XV. 

May 22, 1844. 

Weehawken is a fine place for early flowers. 
Brushing away last year's leaves, in search of these 
hidden treasures, I started a little mole, and was 
quick enough to catch him. 1 held him but a mo- 
ment, to admire the rich glossy brown of his velvety 
fur; for the palpitating heart of the poor blind crea- 
ture reproved my unkindncss in keeping him prison- 
er. As soon as I let him go, he ploughed down into 
the earth witli wonderful rapidity, and for some dis- 
tance I could see a trembling furrow on the surface, 
as he hurried to his subterranean home. This inci- 
dent led to many thoughts concerning the happy life 



• LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 139 

of animals alone with nature, and their wretched 
existence in cities. A painful vision of lean and la- 
cerated omnibus-horses passed before me ; and this 
is a subject so oppressive to my feelings, that I never 
enter an omnibus, unless driven in by stress of wea- 
ther. AVith these, came recollections of dogs fighting 
in the streets, set on by thoughtless boys and hard- 
ened men. 

In beautiful contrast with such scenes, I thought 
of the example of the Quakers. Blessed is the lot 
of animals that come under the care of that friendly 
sect. A Quaker meeting-house may be known at a 
glance, by the ample and comfortable provision made 
for horses. Their domestic animals usually fall into 
their own sleek, quiet, and regular ways. No bell 
indicates the hour for Quaker worship; but I have 
known their horses to walk off, of their own accord, 
when the family were detained at home by any unu- 
sual occurrence. They would go at exactly the 
right hour, stand at the meeting-house door a few 
minutes, and then leisurely walk into the adjoining 
shed. When the people came out, they would go up 
to the door, and stand awhile, with faces turned 
homeward; then would they quietly trot back to 
their barn, apparently well satisfied with the silent 
meeting. 

This assimilation of dumb creatures to their mas- 
ters is by no means uncommon.' 1 have seen a horse, 
all life and spirit, carrying his head erect, and step- 
ping freely, while he belonged to a dashing blade ; 
but Avhen he passed into the hands of a country 
clergyman, he soon become one of the most demure, 
jog-trotting creatures imaginable. There is a contin- 
ual transmission from the spirit of man to all things 
beneath him. Glimpses of its effects are so far visi- 
ble in this world, that an observing eye may per- 
ceive the prevailing character of a person in his house 
and equipage, the arrangements of his room, and 
still more in the appearance and deportment of chil- 



140 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. ^ 

dren and animals. In another world, correspondence 
between the outward and inward will doubtless be 
so perfect, that a man's character may be read at 
once, in the things around him. There, the pure 
only can wear pearls. 

With regard to the treatment of animals, there is 
a most lamentable deficiency in education. It is 
not easy to estimate the effects, on church and state, 
of so simple a thing as allowing boys to encourage 
dog-fights. Here, again, the example of the Qua- 
kers is excellent. On all occasions, they inculcate 
the greatest possible tenderness toward the brute cre- 
ation. No one can read the life of that gentle-heart- 
ed apostle, John Woolman, without being touched 
and softened by his contrition at having, in child- 
hood, killed a robin that was lending her little ones. 

I once asked John W. Edmonds, one of the inspec- 
tors at Sing Sing prison, how it was that a Wall- 
street lawyer, brought into sharp collisions with the 
world, had preserved so much tenderness of heart. 
"My mother was a Quaker," said he, " and a seri- 
ous conversation she had with me, when I was four 
or five years old, has affected my whole life. I had 
joined some boys, who were tormenting a kitten. 
We chased her, and threw stones, till we killed her. 
When I came into the house, 1 told my mother what 
we had done. She took me on her lap, and talked 
to me in such moving style about my cruelty to the 
poor helpless little animal, that I sobbed as if my 
heart would break. Afterward, if I were tempted to 
do anything unkind, she would tell me to remember 
how sorry I was for having hurt the poor little kit- 
ten. I never forgot that circumstance. For a long 
time after, I could not think of it without tears. It 
impressed me so deeply, that when I became a man, 
I could never see a forlorn suffering wretch ran down 
by his fellow-beings, without thinking of that hunted 
and pelted little beast. Even now, the ghost of that 
kitten, and the recollection of my dear mother's gen- 



>^ LETTERS FR03I NEW-YORK. 141 

tic lessons, come between me and the prisoners at 
Sing Sing, and forever admonish me to be humane 
and forbearing." 

One of the most amusing stories I ever heard of 
animals, was lately told by a sober Quaker from 
New- Jersey, who said it was related to him by the 
eye-witness, himself a member of the same serious, 
unembellishing sect. He was one day in the fields, 
near a stream where several geese were swimming. 
Presently, he observed one disappear under the wa- 
ter, with a sudden jerk. While he looked for her to 
rise again, he saw a fox emerge from the water, and 
trot off to the woods with the unfortunate goose in 
liis mouth. He chanced to go in a direction where 
it was easy for the man to watch his movements. 
He carried his burden to a recess under an overhang- 
ing rock. Here he scratched away a mass of dry 
leaves, scooped a hole, hid his treasure within, and 
covered it up very carefully. Then off he went to 
the stream again, entered some distance behind the 
flock of geese, and floated noiselessly along, with 
merely the tip of his nose visible above the surface. 
But this time, he was not so fortunate in his manoeu- 
vres. The geese, by some accident, took the alarm, 
and flew away with loud cackling. The fox, find- 
ing himself defeated, walked off in a direction oppo- 
site to the place where his victim was buried. The man 
uncovered the hole, put the goose in his basket, re- 
placed the leaves carefully, and stood patiently at a 
distance, to watch further proceedings. The sly thief 
was soon seen returning with another fox, that he had 
invited to dine with him. They trotted along right 
merrily, swinging their tails, snuffing the air, and 
smacking their lips, in anticipation of a rich repast. 
When they arrived under the rock, Reynard eagerly 
scratched away the leaves ; but lo, his dinner had dis- 
appeared ! He looked at his companion, and plainly 
saw by his countenance, that he more than mis- 
doubted whether any goose was ever there, as pre- 



142 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. ^^ 

tended. He evidently considered his friend's hospi- 
tality a sham, and himself insulted. His contempt- 
uous expression was more than the mortified fox 
could bear. Though conscious of generous inten- 
tions, he felt that all assurances to that effect would 
be regarded as lies. Appearances were certainly 
very much against him; for his tail slunk between his 
legSj and he held his head down, looking sideways, 
with a sneaking glance at his disappointed compani- 
on. Indignant at what he supposed to be an attempt 
to get up a character for generosity, on false preten- 
ces, the offended gaest seized his unfortunate host, 
and cuffed him most unmercifully. Poor Reynard 
bore the infliction with the utmost patience, and 
sneaked off, as if conscious that he had received no 
more than might naturally be expected, under the 
circumstances. 

This story, which seems well authenticated as a 
fact, is almost as droll as the imaginary anecdote 
invented by the Ettrick Shepherd. He says that his 
dog Hector, by constant fellowship with him, had 
come to resemble him so much, that he sent him to 
church as his representative. Next day, the minis- 
ter commended him, in the presence of the dog, for 
his grave and Christian-like deportment during ser- 
mon time. "Whereupon," says the shepherd, "Hec- 
tor and I gave one another such a look !" He repre- 
sents the dog as obliged to escape from the room, and 
scamper over a wall, where he could laugh without 
being disrespectful to the minister. 

If human souls were in a pure and healthy 
state, I have no doubt the understanding between 
man and animals would improve to a degree that 
would now seem miraculous. Denham describes 
birds in the lonely interior of Africa, as flocking about 
him, and looking him in the face. The picture of 
this scene always seemed to me a true representation 
of man's natural relation to the animals. The dis- 
ciples of Pythagoras have handed down to us anec- 
dotes of him, which imply a prophetic consciousness 



•► LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 143 

of the power man might obtain over the brute crea- 
tion, if his own soul were developed according to the 
laws of divine order. Thev tell us that one day, 
having occasion for a pen, he called a white eagle 
from the clouds, who stooped to have a feather 
plucked from her wing, and then soared again. A 
wild boar that infested the neighbourhood, committed 
great ravages, and defied all the efibrts of the hunt- 
ers. Pythagoras went to the haunts frequented by 
the evil beast, reasoned with him upon the impropri- 
ety of such behaviour, and made him so thoroughly 
ashamed of himself, that he was guilty of no further 
depredations. These stories are beautiful, as types 
of the harmonious subordination of our animal pas- 
sions to the pure dominion of reason; but they 
likewise indicate what changes might take place, if 
man were at one with God and nature. 

Birds and beasts have in fact our own nature, flat- 
tened a semi-tone. Indications of this appear not 
only in their instinct, so nearly approaching to rea- 
son, but also in the striking resemblance between 
animals and human beings. Audubon has very re- 
markably the eye of a bird. Everybody has observ- 
ed children that look like kittens and lambs ; and 
whole classes of faces, that resemble horses, foxes, 
and baboons. In the great tune of creation, the 
same notes are ever recurring in different keys. 

Mineral, vegetable, and animal, are the three notes 
that form the perfect chord of nature. First the ulti- 
mate plane was formed of earth and stones, then the 
mediate of vegetables, then the dominant of the ani- 
mal kingdom. But man includes within himself all 
that is in the lower series ; and living in a higher 
world while he lives in this, he constantly receives a 
spiritual influx, which he unconsciously transmits 
through the consecutive links of the chain. Hence 
the whole of creation is affected by the soul of man ; 
but animals more especially, because they are near- 
est to him, and more closely allied to that portion of 
his nature which changes with spiritual growth. In 



144 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. * 

them, he may see himself, as in a mirror. It is there- 
fore not merely a poetic dream that the lion and the 
lamb would actually lie down together, if man were 
holy. Order in the social state wonld soon be reflect- 
ed in a perfectly beautiful and harmonious relation 
between ourselves and animals. 



LETTER XVI. 

June 10, 1844. 

On the Battery, the other day, I met an acquaint- 
ance from New-England. He was on his way from 
Virginia, where he had been making contracts for 
wood at a dollar an acre. In the true spirit of Yan- 
kee enterprise, he buys up the produce of waste lands, 
fells the trees, ships them to New- York and Boston, 
and finds the trade profitable. 

A large emigration of substantial farmers from 
Orange, Duchess, and Columbia counties, in this 
State, have, within a few years, emigrated to the 
counties of Loudon, Culpepper and Fairfax, in Vir- 
ginia. They bought up the worn-out plantations for 
a mere song, and, by judicious application of free 
labour, they are "redeeming the waste places, and 
making the wilderness blossom as the rose." A tra- 
veller recently told me that the farms cultivated by 
Quakers, who employ no slaves, formed such a strik- 
ing contrast to other portions of Virginia, that they 
seemed almost like oases in the desert. 

What a lesson this teaches concerning the compa- 
rative effect of slave-labour and free labour, on the 
prosperity of a State! It seems strange, indeed, that 
enlightened self-interest does not banish the accursed 
system from the world ; for political economists 
ought to see that "it is worse than a crime, it is a 
blunder," as Napoleon once said of some error iu 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 145 

State policy. But the fact is. self-interest never can 
be very much enlightened. All true vision derives 
its clearness from the heart. 

If ever this truth were legibly written on the face 
of the eartli, it is inscribed on Virginia. No State in 
the Union has superior natural advantages. Look at 
its spacious bays, its broad and beautiful rivers, tra- 
versing the country in every direction; its majestic 
forests, its grand and picturesque mountains, its 
lovely and fertile valleys, and the abundance of its 
mineral wealth. Words could hardly be found en- 
thusiastic enough to express the admiration of Euro- 
peans, who first visited this magnificent region. 
Some say her name was given, " because the country 
seemed to retain the virgin plenty and purity of the 
first creation, and the people their primitive inno- 
cency of life and manners." Waller describes it 
thus : 

** So sweet the air, so moderate the cHme, 
None sickly lives, or dies before his time. 
Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncurst, 
To show how all things were created first." 

Alas, that the shores of that beautiful State should 
become the Guinea coast of the New World ! — our 
central station of slavery and the slave trade ! Of 
the effects produced, we need not question abolition- 
ists, for we learn them from the lips of her own 
sons. John Randolph said, years ago, that he ''ex- 
pected soon to see the slaves of Virginia advertising 
for runaway masters." Washington, in a letter to Sir 
John Sinclair, describes the land in the neighbour- 
hood of Mount Vernon as exhausted and miserable. 
He alludes to the fact, that the price of land in Penn- 
sylvania and the free States, then averaged more 
than twice as much as land in Virginia : " because," 
says he, " there are in Pennsylvania laws for the 
gradual abolition of slavery; and because foreign 
more inclined to settle in free States." 
13 



146 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Mr. Custis says, "Of the multitade of foreigners, 
who daily seek an asylum and home in the empire 
of liberty, how many turn their steps to the region 
of the slave 1 None. There is a malaria in the at- 
mosphere of those regions, which the new comer 
shmis, as being deleterious to his views and habits. 
See the wide-spreading ruin, which the avarice of 
our ancestral government has produced in tlie South, 
as witnessed in a sparse population of freemen, de- 
serted habitations, and fields without culture. Strange 
to tell, even the wolf, which, driven back long since 
by the approach of man, now returns, after the lapse 
of a hundred years, to howl over the desolations of 
slavery.'' 

The allusion to the wolf, is no figure of speech. 
Wild beasts have returned to extensive districts of 
Virginia, once inhabited and' cultivated. 

Some eighteen years ago, when I lived in the 
dream-land of romantic youth, and thought nothing 
of slavery, or any other evils that infest the social 
s^T-stem, an intelligent young lady from the South 
told me an adventure, which made a strong impres- 
sion on my imagination. She was travelling with 
her brother in the interior of eastern Virginia. Marks 
of diminishing prosperity everywhere met their view. 
One day, they entered upon a region which seemed 
entirely deserted. Here and there some elegant villa 
indicated the former presence of wealth ; but piazzas 
had fallen, and front doors had either dropped, or 
hung suspended upon one hinge. Here and there a 
stray garden-flower peeped forth, amid the choking 
wilderness of weeds ; and vines, once carefully train- 
ed on lattices, spread over the ground in tangled con- 
fusion. Nothing disturbed the silence, save the twit- 
tering of some startled bird, or the hoot and scream 
of gloomy wood creatures, scared by the unusual 
noise of travellers. 

At last, they came to a church, through the roof 
of which a tree, rooted in the central aisle beneath, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 147 

sent up its verdatit branches into the sunlight above. 
Leaving their horse to browse on the grass-grown 
road, tliey passed into the building, to examine the 
interior. Their entrance startled innumerable birds 
and bats, which flew circling round their heads, and 
through the broken windows. The pews had coats- 
of-arms blazoned on the door-pannels, but birds had 
built their nests in the corners, and grass had grown 
up through the chinks of the floor. The handsome 
trimmings of the pulpit were so covered with dust, 
as to leave the original colour extremely doubtful. 
On the cushion lay a gilt-edged Bible, still open, pro- 
bably at the place where religious lessons had last 
been read. 

I have before my mind's eye a vivid picture of that 
lonely church, standing in the silence of the forest. 
In some moods of mind, how pleasant it would be to 
spend the Sabbath there alone, listening to the insects 
singing their prayers, or to the plaintive voice of the 
ring-dove, coming up from the inmost heart of the 
shaded forest, 

" VVhosc deep, low note, is like a gentle wife, 
A poor, a pensive, yet a happy one. 
Stealing, when daylight's common tasks are done, 
An hour for mother's work ; and singing low. 
While her tired husband and her children sleep." 

In the stillness of Nature there is ever something 
sacred ; for she pleadeth tenderly with man that he 
will live no more at discord with her; and, like the 
eloquent dumb boy, she ever carryeth '"great names 
for God in her heart." 

" 'Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth, 
And tolls its perfum9 on the passing air, 
Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth 
A call to prayer." 

I can never forget that adventure in the Avilder 
ness. There is something sadly impressive in such 



148 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

complete desolation, where life has once been busy 
and gay — and where human pride has inscribed its 
transient history with the mouldering insignia of 
rank and wealth. 

The rapid ruin and the unbroken stillness seemed 
so much like a work of enchantment, that the tra- 
vellers named the place The Hamlet of the Seven 
Sleepers. At the next inhabited village, they obtain- 
ed a brief outline of its history. It had been original- 
ly settled by wealthy families, with large plantations 
and numerous slaves. They were Virginian gentle- 
men of the olden school, and would have felt them- 
selves disgraced by the modern business of breeding 
slaves for market. In fact, strong family pride made 
them extremely averse to sell any slave that had be- 
longed to their ancestors. So the slaves multiplied 
on their hands, and it soon took " all their corn to 
feed their hogs, and all their hogs to feed their ne- 
groes." Matters grew worse and worse with these 
old families. The strong soil was at last exhausted 
by the miserable system of slavery, and would no 
longer yield its increase. What could these aristo- 
cratic gentlemen do for their sons, under such circum- 
stances ? Plantations must be bought for them in 
the far Southwest, and they must disperse, with 
their trains of human cattle, to blight other new and 
fertile regions. There is an old superstition, that no 
grass grows where the devil has danced; and the 
effects of slavery show that this tradition, like most 
others, is born of truth. It is not, as some suppose, 
a special vengeance on the wicked system ; it is a 
simple' result of the universal and intimate relation 
between spirit and matter. Freedom writes itself 
on the earth in growth and beauty; oppression, in 
dreariness and decay. If we attempt to trace this 
effect analytically, we shall find that it originates in 
landholders too proud to work, in labourers deprived 
of healthful motive, in the inevitable intermediate 
class of overseers, who have no interest in the soil or 



LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 149 

the labourers; but whose pay depends on the forced 
product they can extort from both. Mr. Faulkner, 
of Virginia, has stated tliecase impressively: ^'Com- 
pare the condition of the slave-holding portion of this 
common vvrealth, barren, desolate, and seared as it 
were by the avenging hand of Heaven, with the de- 
scription which we have of this same country from 
those who first broke its soil. To what is this change 
ascribable? Alone to the blasting and withermg 
effects of slavery. To that vice in the organization 
of society, by which one half its inhabitants are 
arrayed in interest and feeling against the other half; 
to that condition of things, in which hall' a milUon 
of your population can feel no sympathy with soci- 
ety, in the prosperity of which they are forbidden to 
participate, and no aftachment to a government at 
whose hands they receive nothing but injustice." 

Dr. Meade, of Virginia, in the records of an official 
tour through the State, speaks of great numbers of 
churches fallen absolutely into ruin, from the gra- 
dual impoverishment of surrounding estates, and the 
consequent dispersion of the population. 

Pope's Creek Church, where General Washington 
was baptized, fell into such complete decay, that it 
was a resort for beasts and birds. It was set on fire 
a few years ago, lest the falling in of the roof should 
kill the cattle, accustomed to seek shade and shelter 
there. 

Yet in view of these facts, statesmen, for tempo- 
rary purposes, are willing to spread over the rich 
prairies of Texas, this devastating system, to devour, 
like the locusts of Egypt, every green thing in its 
path. 

And while we are thus wilfully perpetuating and 
extending this terrible evil, priests and politicians 
are not ashamed to say that it must be so, because 
the system was entailed upon us by " the avarice of 
our ancestral government." Would any o^Ae/- evil, 
any evil which we ourselves did not choose, be tole- 
13=^ 



150 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

rated among us, because it was a legacy from Great 
Britain? I never hear this weak apology offered, 
without thinking of the answer made to it by the 
eloquent George Thompson: -'Yes, charge the guilt 
upon England ; but, as you have copied England in 
her siUj copy her in her repentance.^ ^ 



LETTER XVII. 



Jaue 24, 1844. 



At a second-hand book-stall, I picked up a volume 
of Tieck, and saw in it the name of Leopold Sturm- 
vogel. It excited deep melancholy within me, as it 
does to see a portrait in an auction room. I knew 
the hand-writing well ; and a host of recollections, 
pleasant and painful, were twined round that name, 
which lay there, like obsolete hieroglyphics, among 
the literary rubbish. Leopold was from the Black 
Forest of Germany, and had a thoroughly German 
face. He was one of the most remarkable men I 
ever knew ; remarkable for opposite qualities of al- 
most equal strength. Unfortunately for him, they 
did not harmonize, as in some characters, but fought 
incessantly, and the victory was always alternating. 
His wife used to say that there was enough in him 
to make ten angels and ten devils ; and all who knew 
him felt the truth of the remark. 

At one period of his life, he was a thorough infidel; 
but reverence and love of the marvellous afterward 
swayed him to the opposite extreme, so that he had 
an almost oriental belief in omens. At the time he 
was most in the habit of visiting me, I had a black 
cat of great vivacity, with eyes that glowed like 
burning charcoal. One night, when he was at table 
with usj this cat sprung directly through the blaze 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORE. 151 

of the lamp, out of the open window. After that 
performance, he firmly believed her to be the embo- 
diment of some evil spirit. If she were in the room 
when he entered, he left the house immediately; and 
if she crossed his path out of doors, he always turn- 
ed back. In the midst of rational conversation, I 
have seen his large mouth begin to work in the 
strangest fashion, and after a few minutes, he would 
turn round with angry gestures, fiercely exclaiming, 
" Get thee gone, thou cursed spirit ! Wherefore art 
thou tempting me?" If I asked an explanation, he 
would briefly reply, '' The spirit knows what I mean, 
and that is sufficient." He would then resume his 
discourse, in the coolest and most philosophic man- 
ner imaginable. He came one day, when I was 
writing Philothea, and asked me if I had walked out 
to enjoy the genial atmosphere. I answered, "No; 
I have been all day in Athens; and so intently has 
my mind been occupied, that I almost feel as if 1 had 
actually talked with Plato." "And why should you 
not?" rejoined he : " I know not what should hin- 
der Plato from coming to you, or you from going to 
Plato." 

Many were the stories he told of witchcraft and 
second sight. One concerning an old Burgomaster 
of Stuttgard, with whose family he was well ac- 
quainted, I distinctly remember. The burgomaster 
was an honest, good man, who voluntarily resigned 
his office, because he thought a younger man could 
better fultil its duties. In his retirement, he devoted 
himself to the cultivation of his garden. On one 
side, it was enclosed by the lofty city wall ; on the 
other, by fences, which separated it from neighbour- 
ing gardens, and a spacious shooting ground. The 
old man was one day busily grafting a tree, when, 
raising his eyes suddenly, he saw an infant grand- 
child, of whom he was very fond, standing on the 
most dangerous part of the wall, smiling and beck- 
oning with his finger. The city wall was forty or 



152 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

fifty feet high; and as it was impossible to reach the 
child, he hastened through the garden gate to call 
some one to his assistance. Pale and agitated, he 
entered the house, and exclaimed reproachfuUy to 
the mother, "How could yon let that little one go 
forth alone?'' His daughter pointed to the child 
asleep in his cradle, and replied, "He has not been 
out of my sight, father." Much surprised, he return- 
ed to the garden. During his absence, a bullet from 
the neighbouring shooting ground had gone directly 
through the body of the tree he had been ingrafting. 
This circumstance made a strong impression on the 
family, and they often mentioned it before Leopold, 
who believed it to be an especial interposition of Pro- 
vidence. I said the child was his grandfather's 
schutzengel. Leopold smiled, and said, " I never 
knew you guilty of anything so wretchedly elabor- 
ate ; you have made a pun composed of tiiree lan- 
guages. Schutzengel is the German for Guardian- 
angel. The first syllable sounds like the English 
word shoots, and in Swiss it m^ans shot." His own 
wit was quick and glancing. One day, I showed 
him some flowers from a friend, saying they were 
gathered behind Trenton Falls. " Indeed," said he, 
" they are so beautiful, I sliould have supposed they 
were gathered before the fall." 

A tendency to fill everything with spiritual life, 
showed itself continually in his most casual remarks. 
When I walked with him, I was much amused by 
this all-pervading vitality of his imagination. He 
talked of the stars winking at each other, of the wa- 
terfall roaring because it had a tumble, of the bees 
carrying messages between the flowers, and of rivu- 
lets hurrying home to their mothers. Never did any 
old Greek, with a dryad for every tree, and a nymph 
for every fountain, fill nature so full of life. 

His genius would have produced great things in 
many departments, if he could but have concentrated 
its powers, and controlled the raging strife of his pas- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 153 

rAons. He wrote in a strong German style, and with 
great poetic beauty. He would thunder forth Kor- 
ner's war-songs, and Swabian drinking-songs, with a 
voice sufficiently deep and powerful to outroar the 
bass of the German Ocean in a storm. Yet his draw- 
ings were characterized by exquisite delicacy and 
grace, with here and there a fairy-like touch of the 
supernatural. At oil-painting, too, he tried his hand. 
His first picture of this kind was very beautiful in 
conception, though imperfectly executed. Under a 
venerable old oak, sat an aged man, leaning his 
hands upon a staff. His ear was raised, as if listen- 
ing, and a smile gleamed all over his furrowed face ; 
for between the parting clouds, over his head, ap- 
peared the angel figure of Hope, touching the strings 
of her golden harp. 

Yet this poetic spiritualism was united with the 
strongest animal propensities. As he sang, so did 
he eat and drink; enough for six common men. 
Among the other contradictions of his nature Avas a 
blind superstitious submission, in some frames of 
mind, and, at others, a, perfectly fierce and lawless 
will, that knocked down all regulations of order or 
custom. No mood was so permanent with him, as 
an extreme impatience and dislike of those forms of 
theology called rationalism. He said this class of 
thinkers reminded him of the immense round bon- 
nets, worn by the women of Swabia. The wife of 
the burgomaster of his native city had one of such 
prodigious circumference, that she could not enter the 
doors of the Gothic church, A meeting was accord- 
ingly held, to decide whether Mrs. Burgomaster 
should abate her head-gear, or whether the doors of 
the church should be widened for her accommoda- 
tion. "And so," said he, "these believers in the 
dignity of human nature must either doff their 
glory, or find the doors of religion too narrow for 
their entrance." 

Sometimes he devoutly wished for a priest to whom 



154 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

he could confess all his sins ; such need had he of 
some outward representation of the divine, at whose 
feet he could humble himself in humility and faith. 
Yet nothing could exceed his strenuous resistance to 
all bounds and limits, and to all restraining influence. 
One day, I asked him to go with me to hear a very 
eloquent speaker. " I will not go," he bluntly re- 
plied : "I don't like eloquence. It interferes with 
my free-will." Once he happened to board with se- 
veral gentlemen, who abjured animal food. They 
said nothing to him about his ravenous appetite ; but 
their silent example made him uneasy. He fretted 
and fumed, as if they intended a personal insult by 
their abstinence. " They would have me live on 
Canary-seed," said he ; " but I will let them see I am 
no bird. I can eat a vast deal from opposition." 

Alas, he could drink a vast deal, too ; and the ad- 
mirable powers of his noble mind were wasted and 
ruined by the vicious practice. During the first 
years of our acquaintance, he was seldom intoxicat- 
ed. When he was so, his drunkenness, like every 
thing else he did, had a touch of genius in it. He 
would say the wildest, the richest, the funniest, the 
most grotesque things. But his prevailing mood of 
mind, at such times, was religious. He would chant 
psalms and glorifications, by the liour together; and 
the tears would flow down his cheeks, as he repeat- 
ed his mother's dying prayers, and her last words to 
him : " Leopold, my child, try to be good." With 
strange perversity, as if mocking the angel that nev- 
er left his wayward heart, he would maintain that a 
man was never so spiritual-minded, as when he was 
drunk. He often gravely asserted, that his motive 
for drinking to excess, was to rise out of all duplici- 
ty and hypocrisy, and thus bring himself into closer 
relations with divine beings. 

In personal appearance, he was unusually plain. 
His face was broad, his mouth immensely wide, his 
figure inelegant, and his motions awkward. He had 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 155 

no skill in flattery, and was proverbially forgetful of 
the conventional courtesies of life; yet he had singu- 
lar power over the hearts of women. I ascribed it to 
a magnetic influence from his electric genius and 
power of character. Whatever might be the cause, 
it was more easy for him to excite a strong interest, 
than it was for many handsomer and more graceful 
men. 

The manner of his marriage was as eccentric as 
his other proceedings. A dark-eyed young lady called 
upon me one day, and introduced herself by saying 
she was the daughter of a widow, an intellectual and 
cultivated woman, once prosperous, but now in re- 
duced circumstances. She said she thought I might 
induce the booksellers to employ her mother in trans- 
lating foreign languages. As we talked together, my 
visitor took up a Catholic book, that lay on the table, 
and expressed a strong wish that she could believe in 
that religion. ''1 am so weary of controversy," said 
she ; '•! do so long for the quiet luxury of undoubt- 
ing faith." My friend Leopold came in soon after 
she left, and I quite accidentally mentioned her re- 
marks to him. His uncouth countenance absolutely 
shone, as he jumped up, and exclaimed eagerly, 
"Who is this? This is my wife. Now I know why 
doves flew before me, this morning, till I came to 
your door." I told him the name and residence, in 
a neighbouring town. " I will go this afternoon," 
said he : " I will carry a piece of linen, and ask them 
to make it up for me." "Perhaps they might be of- 
fended by such a request," replied I : "Having once 
been in prosperous circumstances, they may possibly 
be sensitive and proud ; and then ten chances to one, 
the young lady's state of feeling may arise from be- 
ing in love with a Catholic." To all my suggestions, 
he answered, "No matter; I will try. It was not 
without significance that the doves flew before me 
this morning." Away he went ; and when evening 
was closing in, he came back covered with dust, but 



156 LETTERS FROM NEv\r-YORK. 

full of animation. Before he took off his hat, he ex- 
claimed, joyfully, "I have seen my wife. I walked 
out there, and knocked at the house you described. 
A dark-eyed girl opened the door. I told her I came 
from you, and that I wanted a piece of linen made 
up. She answered coldly that they did not take in 
sewing, and shut the door. I turned away much 
disappointed ; but presently I heard a soft footfall on 
the grass, and a sweet A^oice saying, 'Sir! Sir!' I 
looked behind me, and saw a maiden with large, blue, 
tender eyes, who said, 'Sir, my sister was not in the 
right to turn you away so abruptly. Mother says 
she would be very glad to make the linen.' This was 
my wife." 

A fortnight from that time they were engaged, and 
in a few months they were married. The widowed 
mother, being informed of Leopold's intemperate 
habits, intreated them to wait, at least a year. But 
remonstrances were useless. He made the most earn- 
est promises of complete reformation, and the infatu- 
ated girl believed him. The mother urged another 
strong objection. " My daughter had a very severe 
fever a few years ago," said she; "and it has left 
her in a very singular state of nervous disease. She 
is subject to occasional fits of total oblivion." " That 
is another proof that we were made for each other," 
replied the impatient lover; "for I, too, have no 
memory." 

It was a sad wedding to all but the parties them- 
selves. They were in a state of ecstatic happiness, 
to which wealth could have added nothing. For a 
few months, the influence of domestic life seemed to 
quiet the turbid restlessness of Leopold's character, 
and his animal nature was brought into more harmo- 
nious subordination to his high and noble qualities. 
But the love of stimulating liquors soon returned 
upon him. One day, at twilight, I went to their 
humble apartments. The tea-kettle was singing be- 
fore the fire, the table was spread for supper, and 



LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 157 

books and drawings were carelessly scattered over 
the sofa. The young wife sat alone at the window, 
and there was an expression in her eye, which made 
me feel sad and fearful. It was as if she slept with 
her eyes open. When I spoke, she answered me co- 
herently, but the next moment she evidently forgot 
what she had said. " Did Leopold go to church yes- 
terday ?" said I : "It stormed so, that I suppose you 
did not go." "I don't know," replied she ; and look- 
ing out vaguely in the dim twilight, she added, in a 
low thrilling voice, "It seems to me that I remember 
being alone in a storm." 

She was a pretty young creatiu'e, with a complex- 
ion like the Sweet Pea blossom, beautiful eyes, and a 
poetic expression. To see her in this strange trance, 
was exceedingly mournful. I waited, and waited, 
in hopes her husband would return ; but he came not. 
At last, I was obliged to leave her. As I went out, I 
met Leopold, reeling as if he had laid a wager to 
walk on both sides of the way at once ; a process 
which was in fact emblematical of his walk through 
life. In the evening, I sent a friend to ascertain 
whether they were safe. They were both . asleep, 
and people in the house had taken care of light and 
fire. 

Soon after the birth of their first child, I left that 
vicinity, and heard little of them for a year and a half. 
When 1 returned, my first inquiries were concerning 
their welfare. I heard dismal stories of extreme pov- 
erty, of desolate removes from one miserable place to 
another, of increasing tendency to oblivion in the 
wife, and drunkenness in the husband. Under the 
pressure of want and wretchedness, her mind wand- 
ered more wildly than ever. In states of mental ab- 
erration, she had attempted to cut her own throat, and 
to throw her child from the roof of the house. The 
good mother had exerted herself for them, with most 
disinterested patience, but he forbade her the house, 
and she was at last reluctantly driven away by his 
14 



158 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

drunken fury. Benevolent friends were not want- 
ing; but their efforts were useless, because every- 
thing they gave was sold for drink. 

Having discovered their residence, I went to see 
them; and never shall I forget that visit. The pret- 
ty young wife opened the door. Her long fair hair 
was matted, like tangled tow. Her gown was cov- 
ered with grease and dirt, and hung about her in fly- 
ing tatters. In the middle of the room was a cook- 
ing stove, surrounded with spiders, skillets, and ket- 
tles, just as the process of cooking had left them. On 
the table, lay a hat, full of tipsey indentations, and 
crusted with mud. A pitcher without a nose, and a 
jug without a handle, stood near by, on a beautiful 
crayon drawing of the head of Plato. In one corner 
of the room, was a heap of chips and saw-dust, from 
which protruded an exquisitely graceful arm, the 
fragment of a small statue. Behind the chips, rose a 
battered plaster- cast of the God of Silence, with fin- 
ger on his lip, and a dusty cobwe'o woven from hand 
to shoulder. On a broken stool, lay a handsome 
copy of Richter"s Titan, a pair of compasses, and a 
sheet of soiled paper, which seemed to contain dia- 
grams to illustrate the relation between music and 
colours. 

I covered my eyes and wept. Never before had I 
seen genius in such ruin. Never had I v/itnesscd the 
godlike and the bestial of our nature brought into 
such painful contrast. The poor young mother 
seemed to guess my feelings, for she wept, too; and 
taking my hand, slie led me to a small adjoining 
room, where the babe slept, like a little angel in a den 
of animals. 

Leopold was not at liome; but he returned my 
visit that same day. The intellectual expression of 
his countenance was fast changing into the grossness 
of sensualism ; but his conversation indicated the 
same strange mixture of high and low qualities. He 
spoke of his wife's oblivious state of mind as a great 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 159 

mercy. " She would be much more unhappy, if it 
were not for this kind provision of our Heavenly 
Father," said he; "and this the Lord knew, when 
he led her to me." When I spoke of their little boy, 
his eyes filled with tears. "Ah ! if you only knew 
that sweet little creature," said he. "It is very 
beautiful to see how Divine Providence watches over 
that child. Small as he is, he has learned to take 
care of himself; and however cold or hungry he may 
be, he never cries. He undresses himself at night, 
and creeps into his little bed alone. In the morning, 
if he finds that his mother is oblivious, and I am 
stupid, he speaks no more to us; but with his little 
fingers he contrives to pin his clothes, and get a por- 
ringer of water, to dip his crust in. It is very beau- 
tiful to see how Providence takes care of him." 

I never heard a description of forlorn childhood, 
that so affected my imagination and my heart. I 
cannot even now recall it without tears. But the 
desolate little one, with his patient eyes and sad 
voice, made friends all round the neighbourhood. 
The roughest boys shared their bread and cake with 
him, and the Sunday School children joined together 
to knit stockings and make comfortable garments for 
him. 

After a long separation from this unfortunate fam- 
ily, I heard that they had removed to New- York. 
Leopold's imcommon intellectual powers attracted 
the attention of a wealthy gentleman, much interest- 
ed in the temperance cause. Over and over again, 
he paid his debts, and supplied his family with the 
necessaries of life, in hopes to obtain a salutary in- 
fluence over him. At first, Leopold resisted this in- 
fluence, as an interference with his free-will ; but at 
last, kindness overcame him. He warmly pressed 
his benefactor's hand, and with a choked voice said, 
" Because you have not reproached me with my 
many faults, because you have not required me to 
sign the pledge, in return for your generosity and for- 



160 LETTERS FKOM NEW- YORK. 

bearance, therefore I will sign it." He did so, and 
remained perfectly temperate for about a year. 

Rejoiced at tliese tidings, I sent for him soon after 
I arrived in New- York. But, alas ! the change in 
him was not such as I hoped. His old habits had 
returned upon liim with redoubled power. He had 
become bloated and pimpled, and his breath was re- 
dolent of gin. The story he told was a melancholy 
one. He had left his family, in order to provide a 
place for them in this city. At parting, he gave his 
wife three golden eagles, which he had earned by 
teaching German. He afterward had reason to con- 
clude that in her oblivious states, she had spent them 
for quarters of dollars. When he had made the 
necessary arrangements, and wrote for her to come 
to him, he received no reply. He sent to a friend be- 
seeching him to ascertam why she did not write. 
Upon inquiry, he found that she was gone, no one 
knew whither. The house was occupied, and the 
furniture gone. The delicate young creature was at 
last found with her three little ones, in an asylum for 
the poor. From her account, it seemed that they 
had been reduced to absolute starvation ; that she 
had sold every thing for food, and then wandered 
away. Where she had been for three weeks, she 
never could tell. The veil of oblivion had fallen too 
heavily over her diseased memory. 

There were kind hearted people, who would not 
have permitted all this, if they had known of it. 
But Leopold's inveterate habits of intoxication had 
exhausted the patience even of his best friends. His 
wife would not consent to leave him, and his way- 
wardness and pride defeated all efibrts to assist his 
family separate from himself. He repelled those who 
would have served him wisely, and persisted in con- 
sidering himself the injured victim of an unjust world. 

When he told me the story of his wile's destitu- 
tion and wandering, two years after it occurred, he 
was in a state of such intoxicated excitement, that 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 161 

he made the most wrathful gestures, and frequently- 
thrust his clenched fist into my face. 1 had sometimes 
been afraid of him, in former years, when he was 
very much under the influence of strong drink ; but 
by preserv^ing a calm exterior, and speaking to him 
gently, I had been able gradually to soothe him into 
a compliance with my advice. But I had no such 
influence now. I had always indulged the hope that 
patient friendship might help him to gain the victory 
over himself; but I reluctantly yielded to the con- 
viction that his case was a hopeless oue. So many 
broken resolutions had seriously impaired his moral 
strength. His constitution was shattered, and his 
spirits intensely depressed. He thought nothing 
could cure him but the mineral springs of Germany. 
The cold water springs of any country would have 
renovated him, if he would but have tried them per- 
severingly. But he pined for his native land, and 
his countrymen assisted him to return thither. The 
last 1 heard of him, he was ill in a hospital there, 
and his children were near by, provided for by be- 
nevolent ijistitutions. I never think of his gentle lit- 
tle boy, without an earnest wish that it was in my 
power to make his prospects in life more cheerful 
than their early promise. 



LETTER XVIII. 

July 5, 1344. 

Were you ever in Babylon on the Fourth of July? 
If you were not, and have ears as sensitive as mine 
are to sharp sounds, you may thank your stars. To 
all such it is a day to be endured. The big guns 
from the ships come booming through the air with a 
majestic sound; but the crashing musketry, the snap- 
14# 



162 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

ping pistols, and the spitfire crackers, are intolerable. 
From peep of dawn till midnight, this is like a city 
besieged. Muskets are fired from the front doors, and 
pistols from the windows. Rockets whiz into your 
bedchamber, blazing grasshoppers jump at you on 
the sidewalk, and fiery serpents chase you across the 
streets. From the alderman to the chimney-sweeper, 
every one lets off" his patriotism in gunpowder. It 
is as if the infernal regions had been opened, and let 
up for a holiday; and more reasons than one would 
they have for making a jubilee of our glorious Fourth. 
The father of falsehood knows full well that "all lies 
come home to roost;" and thus he foresees rare sport 
in this repubhc. Well may he place finger on nose, 
and make significant gyrations, when he hears it 
pompously proclaimed to the world, that here all men 
are free. 

There is an increasing under-current of feeling in 
the community, not manifesting itself in guns and 
banners, but nevertheless deep and strong. Mine are 
not the only ears that hear the sound of the whip- 
lash in exploding rockets; mine are not the only eyes 
that see behind the fiuttering folds of our starry flag, 
the fettered slave, rising with a sad and warning 
gesture. 

But with all tlie hurly-burly and the sham of our 
national festival, there is doubtless mixed a genuine 
reverence for man, and noble aspirations for a world- 
wide freedom. If the bells and the rockets, the guns 
and the orations, add one particle to the love of lib- 
erty, or a sincere appreciation of its blessings, they 
are not expended in vain. 

It was an exciting page in the strange volume of 
human-nature, to see the city pouring itself into the 
country, and the country, led by the same restless 
love of change and excitement, pouring itself into the 
city. The boats, constantly going and returning, 
were freighted so deep with human beings, that they 
sunk to the water's edge. The farmers rushed in for 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 163 

noise and fun, and the citizens rushed out for quiet 
and fresh air. All were running for feasting and glo- 
rification somewhere. 

Though my ears were pained, my eyes received 
splendid compensation. It is difficult to conceive of 
any thing more gorgeously beautiful than the fire- 
works ill the evening. They went up from every 
section of the city, and curtained it over with a tent 
of flame. The great number and variety made the 
spectacle absolutely sublime. Seen from a command- 
ing height on the other side of the ferry, it was 
more beautiful than any thing I ever imagined of 
fairy-land. Rockets with twining serpents, rockets 
with glittering meteors, rockets with metallic, many- 
coloured stars, rockets with silver rain, rockets with 
golden rain, went up into the air incessantly, and 
played and mingled there, and sprinkled themselves 
out in a whirl of gems. 

To increase the beauty of the scene, this dance of 
diamond sparkles was reflected from the bosom of the 
waters. The radiant stars shone calmly amid the 
fiery frolic, like poetic souls, high above the rush of 
things local and ephemeral, on the serene heights of 
solitary wisdom, brooding over primeval beauty and 
eternal truth. Their faces were sometimes hidden 
by the blaze and glitter of the fire-works; but the 
whizzing coruscations were soon scattered into dark- 
ness, while the silent stars shone forever. 

The earth, too, had its fire-crown, as well as the 
regions of upper air. Koman candles lighted the 
shrubbery of our parks, hke one of Martin's pictures. 
As they went out, trees came up, blossoming with 
roses of many-coloured flame. By their side, rose the 
Cross of Malta in silver fire, with a central cross of 
crimson and purple. Green Palm Trees rushed up, 
and anon changed into gay streamers. The Saxon 
(>lory revolved its gorgeous wheel of ever-changing 
crimson, green, and purple. There was the Lone 
Star of Texas, and the Mexican Sun radiating goldeu 



164 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

fire. The Temple of the Union, with the figures 
1776 in silver lance-work, with a crown of twenty- 
six stars of silver fire, the whole seen on a back- 
ground of revolving flames, like a curtain of resplen- 
dent gems. 

The fireworks in the Park, and Washington Pa- 
rade Ground, were at the expense of the city, which 
appropriated two thousand dollars for that purpose. 
From Niblo's and Castle Garden, the display was, as 
usual, extremely grand. Vauxhall, and other smaller 
parks and gardens, gave their share of dazzling beau- 
ty. From private dwellings, in every street, wheels, 
serpents and fountains went up from roofs and piaz- 
zas, so that the entire city seemed on fire. It was, in 
fact, on fire at twelve diff"erent places during the day. 
But what is independence good for, if we are not al- 
lowed to burn our neighbour's roofs over their heads? 
The entire expense of the day's fire-works, through-' 
out the city, is estimated by those who know, at from 
thirty to fifty thousand dollars ! 

I was much amused by o)ie use to which they 
were applied. A gentleman in the vicinity was in- 
vited to deliver a Fourth of July Address, on a bench 
in the open air. Probably his mother had never 
taught him the proverb, '" It is a good thing to say 
nothing, when you have nothing to say." The sov- 
ereign people were impatient for fire ; and not finding 
enough of it in his discourse, they began to let off 
squibs and crackers. This hint not being taken, 
flaming grasshoppers began to jump under his coat; 
rockets rushed over his head ; wheels whirled round 
him ; and fiery serpents twined about his feet; till he 
stood, like theatrical representations of Satan, in a 
sheet of fire. These finally overpowered his patri- 
otic exertions, he leaped from his pedestal, and went 
ofi* in a flame more brilliant than his eloquence. 

Independent Day inspires a general magnificence 
of sentiment and expansion of soul. At night, I heard 
a merry son of Erin imder my window, proclaiming 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 165 

aloud, '' Damn the Native American Party ! I could 
whip 'em all ; every mother's son of 'em." Unluck- 
ily, the watch-house was near. A Native American 
watchman overheard poor Patrick's glorification, and 
seized him. He, in the fulness of his overflowing 
good nature, began to apologize. "And indade," 
says he, "it was only a bugbear I wanted to whip. It 
was no mankind, at all, at all." 

I was sorry to see that his explanation was not ac- 
cepted. He did not seem really intoxicated, but only 
running over with victorious feeling. This may sure- 
ly be forgiven, on a day whose moral teaching is, that 
it is glorious to whip the world, and crow over it for- 
ever afterward. 

The ungenerous strife, which has of late been go- 
ing on between natives and foreigners, has been pain- 
ful to me. A spirit of clanship is opposed to the 
world-embracing love of the Christian religion, and 
is at variance with those free principles on which our 
government must stand, or it will fall to the ground. 
It is not American freedom for which our fathers 
struggled ; but the principle of freedom. 

The naturalization laws doubtless need amend- 
ment. Political demagogues have aviled themselves 
of the influx of ignorant foreigners, to effect their 
own selfish purposes. As soon as an Irishman lands, 
they pounce upon him, and urge him into citizenship 
and political action, whether he wishes it or not. 
The Irish hold the balance of power in this city, and 
their favour being much courted, corruption is the in- 
evitable result. I will not endeavour to distribute 
the blame where it belongs, or to measure the extent 
of the evil ; but some of the means used to remove 
it are obviously neither liberal nor wise. Banners 
with provoking and contemptuous mottoes, have al- 
ready given rise to a great deal of fighting and quar- 
relling. It is not easy to calculate the bad effect of 
these bitterly expressed prejudices on the education 
of the young. 



166 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

"For character groweth day by day, an J all things aid it in unfolding; 
And the bent unto good or evil may be given in the hours of infancy. 
Scratch the green rind of the sapling, or wantonly twist it in the soil, 
The scarred and crooked oak will tell of thee for centuries to come." 

If ever the evil days of civil strife come upon us, 
we shall find that these party processions and scorn- 
ful banners have sown seed for a dangerous harvest. 

Prejudice and passion on one side always ex- 
cite it on the other. The assumption of superior pu- 
rity or merit, on the part of native Americans, at once 
rouses a similar spirit in the foreign population, till 
they are all ready to drink the famous Hibernian 

toast, "One man is as good as another, and a 

sight better." 

The drollest manifestation I have heard, was an 
anecdote of a young loafer, a native born, but of 
Irish parentage. Being out late in the evening, his 
father inquired where he had been. He replied, "To 
a Native American meeting;" and received a whip- 
ping for his impertinence. "1 don't care a copper 
for the flogging," said the juvenile patriot; "but to 
be struck by a cursed foreigner is too bad." 

A very large proportion of our population is nearly 
in the same condition as the boy ; for if our fathers 
were natives, very few of our grandfathers were. 
The introduction of Indians into these processions, 
seems to me a measure of very doubtful policy. They 
were the only real "native Americans;" and how 
have iheyheen treated by foreigners, who overflowed 
the fair heritage of their fathers ? 

The effects of this popular excitement have met 
my view at every corner. In one place, I heard a 
Protestant lady sternly reproving an Irish woman, 
for selling apples on Sunday. " This will soon be 
put down," said she. " You Catholics won't be al- 
lowed to desecrate the Sabbath in tliis way much 
longer." An observation which doubtless made the 
old woman resolve that she ivoidd sell apples on Sun- 
day, whether it suited her own convenience, or not. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 167 

Oil another occasion, a man attempting to pass an 
old woman in a crowd, cried, " Get out of the way 
there, yon old Paddy." 

"And indade I won't get out of your way; I'll get 
right in your way," said she; and suiting the action 
to the word, she placed her feet apart, set her elbows 
akimbo, and stood as firmly as a provoked donkey. 
She continued to stand and speak thus, for some lime 
after the offending native American had passed. A 
polite word from a friend of mine soon lowered her 
elbows. "Move?" said she ; "To be sure I will, for 
a gentleman that speaks as pleasant as j^ou do." 
This simple incident contains volumes of instruction, 
which might be very useful both in the home de- 
partment and the foreign. 



LETTER XVIII, 

July 12, 1844. 

1 AM often asked, "How can you live contentedly 
in New- York '? You who are so deeply enamoured 
of nature, and who love all forms of beauty, with 
such 'passionate intuition?' " The answer is in the 
question; for an earnest love of beauty always feeds 
itself. You know it is told of a rustic poet, in the 
ancient time, that his envious master shut him up in 
a chest ; but the bees came to him, and fed him with 
the meal and dew of flowers, so that within the walls 
of his narrow prison he passed a pleasant time. Na- 
ture never forgets the soul that loves her, but ever 
sends winged missionaries, to feed it with the dew 
of flowers. 

Instead of quarrelling with New- York for what it 
is not, I thankfully accept it for what it is ; a beau- 
tiful city, every year increasing in beauty. Between 



168 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

the North and the East rivers, twelve noble avenues 
already stretch out their long arms into the woods of 
Harlem and Bloomingdale. These avenues are spa- 
cious and airy, and large handsome houses shoot up 
on them, as if by the magic of Aladdin's lamp. It 
refreshes the eye to see an increashig taste for stone 
or lead colour, rather than the hateful red of bricks. 
Verandahs are likewise more and more in fashion, 
and have an exceedingly pleasant effect, with their 
hght oriental open-work, like Valenciennes lace in 
cast iron. If you pass along one of these avenues, 
in the cool hours of the afternoon, you may see 
troops and troops of children, jumping rope, and 
chasing hoop round the fountain of Union Park ; and 
if the sun is setting brilliantly, rainbows dodge about 
on the spray, as if playing bo-peep with the happy 
little ones. 

On another of the avenues, dwells a lady, whom 
my heart blesses every time I pass her house. She 
has embowered it with vines, almost to the chimney- 
top; flowers peep through the open fence; and from 
the arches of the piazza she has suspended vases of 
Otaheitan geraniums, and other pendant vines. A 
person whose dwelling thus smiles upon the world, 
is a benefactor to the human race, and I feel grate- 
ful, as I do to one who wears a sunny face, and 
speaks in cheerful tones. 

Among the many attractions of this handsome city, 
there are none so universally enjoyed as those fur- 
nished by Croton water. We not only have the three 
large fountains, to refresh us with their graceful mo- 
tions and oooling soimd, but in various gardens and 
inclosures, public and private, little marble nymphs, 
tritons, and dolphins, are playing prettily with fine- 
ly spun showers. I have often thought whether or 
not the clepsydra of the ancient Greeks could be in- 
troduced, in which minutes were marked by falling 
water-drops, as by sand in the modern hour-glass. 
If the public could count time by these liquid dia- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 1G9 

monds. it would be a graceful invention. One thing, 
the people really need; and munificent Croton could 
give it as well as not. We have no free public baths. 
The wealthy can introduce water into their cham- 
bers, or float on the bosom of the tide, in the pleas- 
ant baths at the Battery; but for the innumerable 
poor, this is a luxury that can seldom, if ever, be en- 
joyed. Open bathing around the wharves is of course 
prohibited ; and the labouring man has to walk three 
or four miles to obtain a privilege so necessary to 
health. If the city would provide a huge covered 
basin, with a sprinkling fountain in the centre, for a 
shower-bath, it would be a noble donation to the 
poor. True, the water-tax already falls heavily on 
the rich; but this would not greatly increase it. 
Luckil}^, our wealthy citizens did not foresee the ex- 
pense of introducing Croton, or they would probably 
have been frightened from the undertaking. The 
liighest estimate was four millions, and it has cost 
over fourteen millions. Voted for by thousands who 
have no property, and paid for by a tax on property, 
it is a pretty powerful application of practical de- 
mocracy ; but tlie blessings are so great to all classes, 
that there is very little murmuring among the capi- 
talists. 

To me, there is something extremely beautiful in 
the idea of that little river, lying so many years un- 
noticed among the hills; her great powers as little ap- 
preciated as Shakspeare's were by his contemporaries, 
and, like him, all unconscious of her future fame; and 
now, like his genius, brought to all the people, a per- 
petual fountain of refreshment. If ever man de- 
served a mommient, it is he who first devised the 
plan of bringing Croton river into the city. His 
statue ought to be crowned with water-lilies, by Hy- 
geia, and its feet be washed by the Naiades, from 
their flowing urns. But it so happens, that his name 
is as rjncertain as the birth-place of Homer. No mat- 

15 



170 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

ter. If his soul is as large as his deed, he will care 
little for the credit of it. 

The prettiest of the small fountains about the city, 
is at the Alhamra. This is a place for refreshment, 
in Broadway, gaily fitted up in the Moorish style, 
with lace-work lattices, gilded crescents, alcoves 
painted with hills and streams, and a tasteful collec- 
tion of small statuary, among shrubs and vines. Un- 
der a canopy in the centre, Hebe pours water from 
her vase, into an open-work basket of gilded wire. 
A hollow gilded ball in the basket is kept in perpetu- 
al motion by the column of water, as if tossed by a 
Chinese juggler. The effect is very pleasing. A 
band of musicians play at the Alhamra, every sum- 
mer evening. They must be difficult to please, who 
are not satisfied to eat delicious ice-cream, with so 
many agreeable accompaniments of sight and sound. 

Facilities for hearing music constitute the greatest 
attraction of the city to me. The Philharmonic Socie- 
ty give four concerts a ye^r ; and even your Boston 
critics admit that some of the best productions of the 
art are brought forward with superior talent and skill. 
It is no business of mine to settle the claims of rival 
cities. I am satisfied to enjoy, without comparing. 
I have sometimes thought too restlessly of woods 
and fields, in the presence of bricks and pavement; 
but the brilliant warbhngs of Kyle's flute, has done 
much to reconcile me to the absence of the birds. 

The Italian Opera is the most patrician of our 
places of amusement. It is an extremely pretty little 
building, elegantly fitted up with gilded ornaments, 
and gaily-coloured medallions. No degraded corner 
is reserved for unveiled vice, and the musical dramas 
are never adapted to a polluted imagination, or a vul- 
gar taste. Of all desecration of outward symbols, 
nothing pains me more than winged melodies gliding 
through impure words, like angels among unclean 
beasts. Some of the best productions of modern 
genius, are brought out at the Opera, and the influ- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 171 

erice cannot be otherwise tha.n favourable to the im- 
provement of musical taste. 

During all the summer evenings, the admirable 
brass band plays at Castle Garden. Its beautiful sit- 
uation on the Battery, overhanging the bay, and com- 
manding a view of the neighbouring islands, renders 
it peculiarly pleasant to sit there and listen to music j 

" While the fair waters look as if they lay 

Their cheek against the sound, and so went kissed away." 

However sultry the day may be, there is always a re- 
freshing breeze on the Battery, in the evening. In- 
deed, this remark is true of the city in general, and 
is doubtless one great reason why there is so little 
sickness among such a dense population. The natu- 
ral healthiness of New- York cannot be destroyed by 
the most negligent police. Thus the vigorous consti- 
tution of youth will throw off a great deal of disease ; 
and the United States, strong in her extent of soil, 
and unbounded resources, has remained prosperous 
under an amount of corrupt government, which, in 
half the time, would have ruined the richest nation of 
Europe. 

At Niblo's, too, there is always an excellent orches- 
tra ; and it is extremely agreeable to step out of the 
dusty streets, into its fairy-land garden, with bril- 
liant lights, shell fountains, and oriental shrubbery. 

Vauxhall is less artificial and showy, and being in 
the Bowery, it is out of the walk of fashionables, 
who probably ignore its existence, as they do most 
places for the entertainment of the people at large. 
They who think exclusive gentility worth the fetters 
i imposes, are welcome to wear them. I find quite 
enough of conventional shackles, that cannot be slip- 
ped off, without assuming any unnecessary ones. 
Tiie child cares little where she gathers her flowers, 
or blows her rainbow bubbles. Every where, the 
smile of the sunshine makes them beautiful. 

There are some noble old trees at Vauxhall, which 
rustle right pleasantly in the evening breeze. Col- 



172 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

oured lamps, arranged in stars and circles, light up 
the shrubbery with a fairy glimmer, and harmonies 
come down from a band of musicians among the 
boughs. I love to sit on one of the rustic benches, 
and gaze up into the foliage of the tall trees, like the 
dome of a dimly lighted cathedral. 

" It is a lofty feeling, yet a kind, 

Thus to be topped with leaves. And kind and great 

Are all the conquering wishes it inspires — 

Love of things lasting, love of the tall woods, 

Love of love's self, and ardour for a state 

Of natural good, befitting such desires ; 

Towns without gain, and haunted solitudes." 

Zeal for horticulture was damped by the pecunia- 
ry embarrassments so universally felt a few years 
ago, but it is reviving. There are many pretty gar- 
dens in and about the city. I went to one of these 
last week, to see, for the first time, the Night-bloom- 
ing Cereus, or Cactus Grandiflora. It was the most 
alive thing I ever saw. The vine from which it 
sprimg seemed dry as an old rope, and the bud was 
like a little tuft of tow; but the flower looked in my 
face, with such vigour and earnestness of expression, 
that I could hardly believe it to be a vegetable. It 
was as large as a pint bowl ; its calyx, or outer circle 
of leaves, of an orange brown tinge ; the petals 
double as a pond-lily, white as the drifted snow, and 
transparent as rice paper. The feathery tufted sta- 
mens were likewise of the purest white ; but deep 
down in its bosom was a delicate tinge of lively 
green, faint as the reflection of an emerald on a snow 
wreath. It is marvellous indeed, that such prodigal- 
ity of beauty and vigour should be sent forth in the 
night time, and for a few hours only. Nature and 
genius are ever heedless of their jewels, and throw 
them forth in the very playfulness of profusion. This 
superb blossom happened to open on Sunday evening, 
and therefore some people lost the sight of it, from 



LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 173 

conscientious scruples; but I thought if there was 
anything Avrong in coming out on Sunday, the flower 
would have known about it. 

Scruples of this kind by no means characterize the 
population of New- York. It difl'ers very observably 
from New-England cities, in the universal loco-mo- 
tion on Sundays. Being the only leisure day with 
labourers, the temptation is strong to take their fam- 
ilies into the country, for fresh air, and a sight of 
green fields. The huge Harlem omnibusses, with 
upper and lower decks, like a steamboat, are loaded 
to overflowing. It is a cheerful sight to see them 
returning at sunset, with green boughs and boquets 
of flowers. To Hoboken, the boats are crowded all 
day. The average number that go over every pleas- 
ant Sunday, in summer, is over ten thousand ; though 
this is only one of the numerous outlets from the 
great city. If the influence of groves and streams 
were all they sought, it would be well; but unfortu- 
nately, drink and cigars abound at Hoboken, and 
sounds are heard there, not at all resembling the 
worship of the heart in the stillness of nature. 
Indians have encamped there of late, and out of res- 
pect to the day, it was proposed that they should 
substitute some of then- religious ceremonies, for the 
war-dancing, boat-racing, and arrow-shooting of 
week days. Whether this was productive of greater 
benefit to the populace, than would have been derived 
from some more civilized performances, I am unable 
to say. These Indians are on their way to Europe, 
for exhibition. The Ojibbeways, who lately went 
there to lay some grievances before the British govern- 
ment, prove a profitable speculation; and Barnham, 
of our American Museum, who is now in England, 
nnmediately sent over orders to catch the wildest 
specimens that could be found, and forward them by 
steam. So White Cloud, and Walk-in-the-Rain, and 
other chiefs from Iowa, are going to shoot pennies 
for Victoria's amusement. This Barnham is a gen- 
15=^ 



174 LETTERS FE03I NEW-YORK. 

nine Yankee, for contrivance and perseverance. He 
will circumnavigate the globe, to catch a monstrosity 
of any kind for his museum. Giants, dwarfs, double- 
headed calves, no matter what, so that it be some- 
thing out of nature. He would mount Phseton's 
car to catch the comet with seven tails, plunge into 
Symmes's Hole for a dog with two heads, and go 
down the Maelstrom for a sea-serpent. Where on 
earth he picks up the "accomplished contortionist, 
with his learned dog Billy," and the " most astonish- 
ing dwarf in creation," and all the odd characters 
that walk like steam engines, and buzz like musqui- 
toes, and have mouths like a ribbon-loom, it is difficult 
to imagine. When one stops to reflect what an 
important part popular amusements perform in the 
education of the people, this ingenious prodigality of 
grotesqueness becomes somewhat serious. 

The theatres, of which there are four, are obliged 
to resort to similar contrivances to keep from bank- 
ruptcy. None of them are fashionable, though 
Park theatre retains a sort of vanishing likeness of 
gentility. The Bowery lays itself out to gain the 
hearts of the million, by gorgeous decorations, fan- 
tastic tricks, terrific ascensions, and performances 
full of fire, blood, and thunder. The national feeling 
at the Bowery is prodigiously expansive. Some pa- 
triots presented a great, fierce, gilded eagle, that used 
to look as if he could clutch almost anything in his 
talons, from Indian babies to Mexican candlesticks. 
He was burnt, when the building took fire; but his 
spirit still speaks in vaunting drama, and boastful 
song, and works up the patriotism of the audience, 
till they feel a comfortable assurance that every 
American can '• whip his weight in wild cats." If a 
philosopher wishes to observe the ultimate product 
of civilization, and has strong nerves, and senses not 
over-delicate, he may do well to take a seat in the 
pit of the Bowery, for once. It would be an excel- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 175 

lent place for the Texans to send to for recruits; 
though their emissaries might suffer some inconveni- 
ence from the fact that the poHce have two peeping- 
holes, from which they can reconnoitre the assem- 
blage, revealed in the full blaze of the lamps. There 
are always plenty of idlers and loafing lads, who are 
ready for any sport. " Let us have fun to-night, 
come what may to-morrow," is their reckless maxim. 
These characters assist the play with a great deal of 
improvised merriment, and now and then get up a 
gratuitous battle, more lively than those on the stage. 
One of the stockholders of this theatre has made a 
fortune by furnishing excellent provisions at his 
victualling shop. Being present on one of these 
disturbed occasions, after trying every means he 
could think of to pacify the rioters, he called out, in 
despair, "Gentlemen, what will you have 7" " Roast 
beef," cried one; "stewed oysters," shouted another. 
This facetiousness proved a safety-valve to their 
turbulent spirits. Their steam all went off in roars 
of laughter, and they broke no lamps or scenery that 
night. Plutarch gives similar specimens of Attic 
merriment. Demos is the same good-natured, harem- 
scarum creature, whether in the theatres of New- 
York or Athens. 

1 speak playfully, yet the low, unsatisfactory, and 
demoralizing character of popular amusements is 
painful to me. Only by cultivation of the higher 
qualities of our nature, can sensual stimulus and 
fierce excitement be rendered unattractive. What is 
society doing to kindle the divine spark, which lies 
smouldering in the breast of every little vagabond of 
this city? We have watch-houses and prisons, but 
where is our Redemption Institute, like that blessed 
asylum at Hamburg, of which Horace Mann tells 
us, in his admirable Report on Education? 

In those places so appropriately called pits, there 
are terrible unwritten epics of sin and sorrow, — of 
sin and sorrow growing out of the very passions and 



176 LETTERS FR03I NEW-YORK. 

energies, which, in a right order of things, might 
have made those men kings and priests of humanity, 
by the only divine right, that of wisdom and hoUness. 
The admitted truthfuhiess of Byron's jest, " What a 
pity is it, that sin is pleasure, and pleasure is a sin," 
betrays a state of society painfully unnatural and in- 
harmonious. Will there ever come a time, when all 
men shall be wisely cheerful, and innocently gay? 
A time when all the instincts, passions, and senti- 
ments of our nature, shall find free, innocent, and 
healthy exercise? 

If I were superstitious, I might think an answer 
was vouchsafed to me from the sky. As 1 write, the 
sun is setting. High houses between me and the 
west intercept his rays, so that only one bright 
gleam falls on the gilded cross of a neighbouring 
Catholic church, while the building is in the shadow 
of twilight. It stands there in beautiful distinctness, 
a radiant cross of fire, on a back-ground of dark and 
heavy cloud-masses. I gratefully accept the omen. 



I 



LETTER XX. 

July 25, 1844. 

Many are the playful disputes we have had toge- 
ther about genius and talent, inspiration and skill ; 
and always you were on the extreme right of the 
question, and I on the extreme left. I have lately 
written a short romance, or fairy legend, in which 
you will see plainly enough that I intend to represent 
mere skill trying to do what cannot be done without 
genius. 

The story originated thus : The German friend, 
who visited Mammoth Cave, and gave me so vivid 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 177 

a description of its wonders, was not satisfied with 
the account I wrote of it. " The fact is," said he, 
" such stupendous scenery as that needs the agency 
of the supernatural. Genii and spirits should be 
summoned to your aid." '' Very well," I replied, 
''to please you, I will try to write a spirit-legend. I 
think it will not be difficult to fill the cave with su- 
pernatural presence ; for such creations as abound 
there, seem like the appropriate work of powerful 
genu." " Yes," rejoined he, laughing, " and one 
thing I am certain of; you cannot connect those life- 
less forms, with Ole Bui's music, as you do every- 
thing else in creation." He was himself an enthu- 
siastic admirer of the Norwegian minstrel, and made 
the remark only in playful defiance. That which he 
sportively declared I could not do, straightway 
danced into my imagination as a thing to be done. 
When I read the romance to him, some time after, I 
saw by the smile in his eyes, that I had no occasion 
to inform him what child of music it was, whose birth 
was to bring genius and skill into harmony with 
each other. 

I preferred the Northern mythology, as better suited 
to the wild and sublime scenery of the place. In that 
mythology, Thot is synonymous with Art, Science, 
or Skill. Freia is the goddess of Love, or Feeling ; 
likewise of the Moon and of Spring ; of course, 
she was enamoured of music. I chose her to repre- 
sent inspiration, because genius resigns itself wholly 
to a feeling of the beautiful, while talent tries to un- 
derstand the beautiful by rules, and thus to imitate it. 
Genius gives itself up to its demon, as the ancients 
phrased it. It trusts to its spirit, and follows where- 
soever it leads, nothing fearing. But talent, or skill, 
wants to make the spirit its servant, and bind it 
within prescribed rules and regulations. 

Socrates speaks thus, using the word mania as we 
do inspiration: "A mania, descending from the 
Muses, into a soul tender and solitary, rouses and 



178 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

agitates it with Bacchic fury. He who approaches 
the poetic gates without the mania of the Muses, 
persuading himself that he can become a poet by art 
alone, will be imperfect, both as regards his poetry 
and himself All that can be produced by art van- 
ishes before the offspring of mania." 

Music and poetry, thus divinely uttered, flow into 
forms; the relations of which are studied, and be- 
come rules of art. Thus language is formed, and 
then grammar, which is a mere exposition of the re- 
lations of language. The most accurate knowledge 
of rulea cannot make an eloquent writer, or even a 
good reader. It is a mere lifeless body, without a 
soul, if feeling, or expression, be wanting. And if it 
be true that the poet can produce no living beauty, 
without this subtle, indescribable essence, which we 
call inspiration, it is still more true of the musical 
composer, because his art soars higher into the region 
of pure and infinite expression. 

But I will trouble you with no more explanations. 
Read and understand for yourself the romance of 

THOT AND FREIA. 

The earnest longing of man to understand the ori- 
gin of nature and himself, his anxious questioning 
of the infinite, and fearful listening to echoes from 
the invisible, has, in all ages and portions of the 
world, "peopled space with life and mystical pre- 
dominance." 

In the cold regions of the north, instead of Grecian 
Nymphs and Naiades, this instinct has given birth 
to misty spectres and wandering giant ghosts. In- 
stead of Arabian Fairies, they have filled the earth 
with subterranean dwarfs and goblins of uncouth 
shape. With them, the Peris of Persia have taken a 
wilder form in the Aasgaardsreja — spirits not good 
enough for heaven, or bad enough for hell, and so 
condemned to ride about, while the world lasts, on 
furious black horses with red hot bridles. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 179 

Of these, the proudest and sternest was Thot. In 
height and size, he towered a giant among the 
spirits around him. Strong and shiewy, hke a man 
of iron, w^ith an eye that looked as if he thought 
creation was his anvil, on which he could fashion all 
things. From the troop of the Aasgaardsreja he 
stood aloof, except when he needed them as slaves to 
do his bidding. In their restless wanderings and 
busy malice, he took no share, but ever dwelt apart, 
amid the cloud shadows of Niflheim, the world of 
mist. If he had ever inhabited a body on the earth, 
no tradition was lett concerning it. The spirits from 
the most ancient world had been questioned, but 
none knew whence he came. A tradition had been 
handed down among them, that he had never been 
a mortal, but was one of the council of the eternal 
gods, cast out from the glorious valley of Ida, be- 
cause he had sought to use heavenly arcana to ad- 
vance his own power, in opposition to the Supreme. 
The boldest durst ask him no questions of his origin; 
but the dark spirit knew well their tradition concern- 
ing him. 

Gloomily and moodily, dwelt he amid the fogs of 
Niflheim, and the burden of his thought was ever, 
"Why cannot I make a world for myself? When I 
listened to Freia's song, in the Yale of Ida, it revealed 
to me the distances of the planets. From her harp, 
I heard the tones to w^hich the trees grow, and the 
blossoms unfold ; and with the tones came to me the 
primeval words, whispered into the heart of each 
tree, and blossom, and gem, at the moment of its 
creation ; the word which gave them being, and 
which they must forever obey. I burned with in- 
tense desire to press farther into the inmost heart of 
all being, and learn the one primeval tone, in the one 
primeval word, from which flowed the universe. 
Then was I exiled from the glorious valley, and 
giants now guard its rainbow bridge, that I cannot 
again pass over.'' 



180 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

The strong spirit bowed his head upon his hand, 
and a feehng of sorrow came over liim, as he mur- 
mured, "Oh, Freia, would I could hear thee again ! 
Many of the words remain, but the tones are lost. 
Alas, that I. ever wished to use them to compel 
creation." 

As he spoke, he cast his eyes toward the south, 
where lay Mispelheim, the region of warmth and 
light. A broad arch, as of burnished gold, came up 
from the horizon, and cast its splendour on the wil- 
derness below. From the arch shot up vast columns 
of amber light, and met at the zenith of the heavens, 
in a radiant crown of revolving stars. From this de- 
scended a long waving festoon of luminous thread ; 
and in it swung, lightly as a bird in a wind-tossed 
vine, a woman of dazzling beauty. It was Freia, 
goddess of love and music ; she who carries in her 
heart a spark of fire from the central altar of the uni- 
verse, and gives it forth in scintillations, which men 
call genius and inspiration. 

Thot gazed upon her with kindling eyes, and 
stretched his arms eagerly toward her. She smiled 
upon him, and the reflection lighted up the fogs of 
Niflheim with a thousand rainbows. " The tones ! 
the tones, my beloved ! Play them again," exclaim- 
ed he, imploringly. She touched her harp, and the 
air was filled with its vibrations, as if the stars sang 
together, and the gentle winds breathed a soft melo- 
dious accompaniment. The exiled spirit listened hke 
one entranced. The music swayed his soul, as the 
southern breeze stirs the young foliage of spring. 
'• That restores to me tlie life and the power,"' said 
he, joyfully. Then came over him again the wish 
to compel all things ; to create a world by his own 
almighty skill. " If I only knew the primeval word 
of her life," thought he, " if I could make her rny 
slave, then could I easily create a fitting dwelling for 
myself, and chase those proud deities from their val- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 181 

ley of golden forests, to the cold dark fogs of Nifl- 
heim." 

As these thoughts passed through his mind, the 
music died away in a wailing cadence ; light fleecy 
clouds fell like a curtain before the goddess ; the gold- 
en arch sunk behind the horizon : one little floating 
cloud caught the departing gleam, and lingered for a 
moment, 

" Like a singing lark, i 

With morning brightness on its downy breast," 

then melted in the air. 

After this glorious vision, the treeless wilderness, 
the spectral rocks, the cold dark fogs, seemed more 
dismal than ever. Thot threw himself on his face, 
and bit the ground in gloomy stern defiance. Thus 
remained he for a long time, and the Aasgaardsreja, 
as they passed the borders of Niflheim, said in whis- 
pered murmurs, -'The proud one has yielded." 

But when he heard the tramp of their horses, he 
started on his feet, and stood with folded arras, look- 
ing out sullenly through the murky vapours, on the 
dreary waste around him. " She came when I called 
her ; again shall she come at my bidding," said he, 
haughtily. He fixed his gaze where the light had 
vanished, and with a slow, firm voice, uttered, "Freia! 
Life of my power, appear again !" 

When he had repeated it thrice, with strong con- 
centration of soul, the edge of the horizon gleamed 
tremblingly, and Freia slowly arose ; not as before, 
in a luminous temple, and resplendent with heavenly 
beauty, but faint, shadowy, and vanishing, like the 
moon-sickle veiled in clouds, as she passes away over 
the western hills. " The harp ! the harp !" said he : 
" I beseech thee, let me hear those tones again." 
The arms of the figure waved feebly, like the 
shadow of a vine in the moonlight, but there came 
no sound. 

The dark brow of the spirit grew darker. '' For- 
16 



182 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

ever mocked with shadows !" exclaimed he, angrily : 
" But I have learned somewhat of the secret I would 
penetrate. She came, though reluctantly, at the com- 
mand of my will. Is Will then the central life? — 
the primeval word, from which electricity had being?"' 

As he mused, a self-conscious smile passed over his 
face. From that day he pondered more deeply than 
ever the half-forgotten secrets of the immortal valley, 
and sought to complete his power by spells and in- 
cantations, learned from spectral spirits of the mist. 
On the sand around him were scrawled squares, an- 
gles, and circles; the intervals of sound marked in 
figures ; and every where the algebraic X standing 
for the unknown quantity. 

At last, Avhen he deemed the charm complete, he 
called the Aasgaardsreja, and demanded of them 
their strongest and fleetest steed. They brought him 
a black horse of giant size, but nimble as the light- 
ning. When the spirit laid his hand upon the mane, 
the powerful animal trembled in every joint, and 
from his eyes went forth a lurid flame. The Aas- 
gaardsreja looked at each other significantly. " De- 
part !" exclaimed Thot, in a thundering voice, and 
they scattered like the winds of a tempest. Then, 
with a deep, slow voice, he muttered the spell, which 
was to bring Freia into his power, and extort from 
her the primeval word of her being. No light came 
up from Mispelheim, no rainbows touched the fogs 
of Niflheim ; but close by his side stood Freia, glit- 
tering with a cold, metallic splendour. He seized 
her, and, mounting the fiery steed, went ofl* like a 
storm-bird across the mountains and over the bil- 
lows. A wild chorus of laughter, from subterranean 
spirits, rose from the earth, and the distant mountains 
broke it into mocking echoes. 

The horse and his rider stopped in the midst of 
dense forests, on a far distant shore. The instant 
they dismounted, the elfish horse, with a loud impa- 
tient snort, sprung from the ground, and disappeared 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 183 

behind the horizon Uke a flash of hghtning. Thot 
looked around him and sighed deeply. "We are 
alone in the New World across the ocean," said he, 
" of which I have overheard such romantic tales 
from the Iceland and Norwegian boatmen, who 
have been drifted to its shores. Perhaps I should 
have done well to bind the steed by a magic spell ; 
for who knows whether I may not Avish myself back, 
even to the fogs of Niflheim?" He gazed on the 
beautiful solitude with an oppressed feeling. "Freia," 
said he, soothingly, " forgive me that I have compel- 
led thy service. Here will I make a world more 
beautiful than any thou hast seen. I can create all 
forms, for I have studied well the laws of their be- 
ing." A peal of laughter came from under the ground, 
and died away in the distance. " Ha ! subterranean 
spirits here, too!" he exclaimed. "Let them beware 
how they cross my path." 

He smiled scornfully, and stooping down marked 
figures on the ground. Then muttering an incanta- 
tion with measured rhythm, he stamped thrice, and 
the earth opened, and received him and his compan- 
ion. "Now, Freia, tune thy harp," said he; "for 
here will I fashion a world of my own ; and thy tones 
must restore to me the forgotten primeval words." 

" I have no harp," replied Freia. 

"Why hast thou not brought it7" said he, angrily. 

Trembling under the glance of his fierce eyes, she 
answered, "It was not permitted." 

He clenched his fists, and drew his breath hard. 

" Not thus shall the gods defeat me," said he, with 
haughty defiance : " I will make for thee a harp, and 
on ii sliou shalt repeat the tones." 

He fashioned an instrument, and commanded her 
to play. But when she touched the strings, he knock- 
ed it rudely from her hand, and said, " Thou art like 
a peasant girl with her langoleik.^ Give me the 

*An instrument with four strings, used by the Norwegian pea.santry. 



184 LETTERS Fnor.I NEW-YORK. 

tones I heard in Ida, or when thou earnest to me a 
vision of beauty, from the golden shores of Mispel- 
heim." But ever as she tried, he grew more angry. 
She wept and said, "Alas, I do not know the tones 
whereof you speak." 

He took the harp and swept the strings with a 
strong impatient hand, but the harsh sounds grated 
painfully on his ear. Leaning against a rock, he 
gazed upward in silent thought. The moon looked 
down upon him mournfully, through the cleft by 
which he had descended. It spoke to him of the 
vale of Ida, and showed dim forms of glory in the 
air. Oppressed with the half-revealed vision, he 
drew a long sigh. His breath passed over the strings 
of the harp and they gave ^olian warblings of the 
half-remembered tones. With sudden joy, he said, 
" Freia, if thou hast forgotten, I can teach thee the 
tones of Ida." He touched the strmgs, but quite 
other tones came forth — tones that dwell only m the 
extremities of form, far from the central heart. He 
threw down the instrument, and buried his face in 
his hands. After a long time, he said, sadly. "Freia, 
if thou hast forgotten the music of our divine home, 
canst thou not at least play me the melody, which 
just now went over the harp, when I wist not of its 
coming?" 

"Ah, that is well," he said, as she touched the 
strings. "That is the voice of moonlight. Practise 
it well, Freia. I will learn it and repeat it to thee ; 
and then thou wilt not forget it." He took the harp 
and played, but Freia shook her head and murmur- 
ed, "It speaks no longer what the moonlight sung." 

" Take the accursed langoleik," he answered : " I 
will not trouble myself v/ith its uncertain voices. I 
will create forms, and then compel the tones that 
give them life. But,, Freia, thou who wert once so 
radiant, how dim thou art. Merely the gleam of thy 
golden hair would once have lightened all this region, 
like the moon at its full, and now all around thee is 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 185 

twilight shadow." Fixing his eyes upon hers, he 
repeated a spell he had learned of the Aasgaardsreja, 
and her form began to radiate a blue metallic light. 

"Now I will give thee a token of my power," he 
said. He remained silent for a long time, tracing 
figures on the ground; then to each figure he whis- 
pered a word. There was a low grumbling under- 
ground, which gradually increased to wild uproar. 
Freia stopped her ears, and shuddering, exclaimed: 
'Surely there is a tempest near, hurling down masses 
of stone from the moilntains." 

Slowly the sounds died away, rumbling in the dis- 
tance. 

"Now look up," said Thot; and a proud smile 
rested on his features. She raised her eyes. Lo ! 
the cave in which they stood had stretched out inter- 
minably. High above their heads was a broad sky 
of stone, and giant piles of rock towered upward in 
wild confusion. "What think you?" he asked. 
"Are Hurrungern, Fannarauk, or tall Skogshorn, 
better workmanship than these mountains of mine?" 

" It seems like the dark dwellings of the elf men," 
replied Freia; "only they have pillars and thrones, 
and churches, in their strange subterranean homes." 

" Thou shalt have pillars and churches, if thou 
wilt," said the giant spirit. He retired apart, and 
presently there was heard a crackling, clinking sound. 
All around Freia, there rose suddenly shining col- 
umns, forming arches like intertwisted trees, with 
rich foliage hanging from them in fantastic festoons. 
Beneath this tracery of vines, in the centre of four 
massive columns, a grotesque chair was gradually 
formed, as if by invisible fingers. "Do the elf- 
women have grander thrones than that?" he asked, 
exultingly. " Why dost thou not praise my work- 
manship ? Is it not grand?" 

"It is grand," replied Freia; "But all is so still 
and deathly herer If one could but see rivers glanc- 
16* 



186 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

ing brightly between the rocks, or hear the noise of 
waterfalls, or the whispering of the dark pines." 

" Th)^ wish is not beyond my power," said Thot; 
'' but I must speak primeval words to the springs of 
the upper world." 

He was absent long, and his return was preceded 
by a deafening rush and roar of waters. Pale and 
terrified; Freia said, ''This sound is more awful 
here in the silence, than the thunder-voice of the 
Storlie-forse alone with the midnight." 

" Thou wouldst have rivers and cascades, and I 
have done thy bidding," said Thot. He took her by 
the hand, and led her down a mountain slope. All 
round them was the roar of unseen waterfalls, and 
at their feet flowed a broad black river, over-arched 
with rock. Thot felt his companion tremble on his 
arm. " Thou foohsh one," said he, " didst thou not 
ask for cataracts and rivers?" 

"Yes, but there is no life here," she answered, 
shuddering. " These waters do not glance and glit- 
ter in the sunbeams. No white foam-mantle gleams 
in the moonlight. This is like Koldesjo, the lake 
with dead gray shores, where the huge shadows of 
the mountains fall forever black and cold on the 
valleys. Surely this is the dwelling of Hela, where 
the rivers are black, where clammy drops ooze from 
the rocks, and a stony wilderness, without tree or 
shrub, stretches itself out like the ocean. If there 
were but the least thing alive here. Everything 
seems imprisoned." 

As she spoke, there was a thundering noise, as of 
immense rocks piled one above another. Frightened 
by the reverberating sounds, she sprang on the cliff 
above, and in wild alarm, leaped from precipice to 
precipice. Now she cast a cold light through chinks 
of rock, and now stood for a moment on some rug- 
ged peak, like the moon seen through clouds resting 
on the mountain top. The pale gleam that came 



LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 187 

down made a ghastly contrast with the dense black 
shadows. 

" It is indeed fearful here," said Thot; " It is truo 
nothing has life in it." With clenched hands and a 
frowning brow, he moved toward the quarter whence 
the noise had proceeded. With a deeper frown, he 
returned and sought Freia among the cliffs. "Come 
down again, and fear nothing," he said. "There 
are giants and subterranean genii here also ; and they 
will not answer to our Northern spells. But fear 
them not. They dare not contend with me. They 
have piled huge rocks at the entrance to the upper 
world. They were doubtless sent by the tyrannous 
deities to imprison me, lest I bring the stars from 
their places, as I have turned the rivers by my pow- 
er. Be it so. With the materials around me here, 
I can create what I will. And thou, dear Freia, 
wilt by-and-bye, remember the tones of Ida, and 
they will glide into the forms I have made, and 
make them live. I brought with me sparks of fire 
scattered from Mispelheim. Of these will I make 
stars, and fasten them in the firmament." 

Well pleased, he turned to the work, and soon 
called her to look at his constellations. He lighted 
a torch and held it aloft, that she might see the shin- 
ing points on a sky of rock. 

Freia smiled. '"They do indeed look somewhat 
as I have seen the stars from deep gorges among the 
heights around Usterfjell," she said, " But seest thou 
not that the light is on thy stars, not in them .^ There 
is no need of torch-light for the bright polar constel- 
lations, seen through their waving auroral veils. 
All thy creations are petrified. If one could but see 
anything alive ! If thy waterfalls could only scatter 
icy spray into trees, and flowers, and grapes, such 
as the furious Rjukan wears for his winter mantle. 
If one could see the snow-lichen peep from the crevi- 
ces of thy mountains, or catch even a glimpse of the 
bog-lichen J with its sickly sulphur face. For th& 



188 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

sake of seeing something alive, one might even wel- 
come the giant Stallo,^ and struggle with him joy- 
fully for life or death." 

" Be it as thou wilt," replied Thot, impatiently. 

But she seized his arm and said, "Not the spec- 
tral giant with the black staff. Oh, summon not 
him." 

"Thou shalt have thy lichen and flowers, then," 
said he; "But come play to me the melody that the 
moonlight breathed through my soul. By those sil- 
very tones must I fashion thy gardens." 

She took the harp and played ; but the tune came 
as she had learned it of Thot, after some of the tones 
had fallen out and been replaced by others ; and 
neither of them now perceived that it was not quite 
the same the moonlight sung. 

As she played, he murmured charmed words, and 
all around on the naked rocks there came forth forms 
of exquisite beauty. Snow-lichen and mosses peep- 
ed out from clefts; white roses unfolded their pearly 
petals; delicate bell-shaped blossoms nodded on their 
slender stems ; fir trees rose in regular crystals ; with 
a rustling sound, the Indian corn sent up its magni- 
ficent leaves and flowing silken tassels; grapes hung 
in rich clusters; and the walls were decorated with 
garlands, twined with a sparkling diamond thread. 

" Now put forth all thy radiance !" said Thot; and 
under the influence of his potent spell, the figure of 
Freia shone like a meteor. He smiled exuhingly, 
while she clapped her hands, and shouted, " This is 
beautiful ! Truly, this was born of the voice of 
moonlight! It is splendid as Krystalberg glittering 
in the setting sun. Surely the mountain dwarfs who 
dwell there, helped thee to make these jewelled forms 
of grace." 

" Say rather," replied he, "that it resembles Glad- 
heim, in the vale of Ida." 

*A huge ghost, which, according to popular tradition, wanders among 
Noi wegain tnouutaiiis. 



LETTERS FROx^I NEW-YORK. 189 

But she answered, " I do not remember." 

"Dost thou not!" asked he, mournfully. "Hast 
thou forgotten ihe Palace of Joy 7 It had well nigh 
gone from my own memory, when that song of the 
moonlight brought it back in glimpses. And see, I 
have created for thee another Gladheim!" 

For awhile, they lived there in joy, ever adding 
some new form of beauty to their brilliant grotto. 
Then Thot felt as if he were a god. But weary at 
last of this fanciful play, Freia said, " Thy sparkhng 
jewels are petrified light. Thy lovely flowers have 
no fragrance, and no colour." 

"It is even so," he replied, in a dissatisfied tone; 
"and they neither grow nor reproduce themselves. 
Living trees and flowers make music as they grow. 
In the immortal valley, thy harp repeated all their 
tunes. If thou couldst but play them now, the tones 
would glide into those graceful forms, and make the 
beautiful petrifactions live. And oh, if I had but the 
tone that to Light gave being ! " 

With deep dejection, she replied, "I, too, would 
give worlds to know those primeval words and tones. 
Often have I felt that I would willingly die to learn 
the mysteries they reveal." 

"Die!" he exclaimed. "Thou canst never die. 
The immortals know not death." He eyed her keen- 
ly, and after a long pause, he said, "Freia, thou hast 
altered strangely. The light of thy garments is like 
steel, rather than gold. Thy voice has changed. 
Thou hast forgotten the tones that filled me with cre- 
ative life. Thy eye-glance once looked far into in- 
finity ; it now rests on the surface." She was silent, 
and he continued, sternly, "Art thou a tool of the de- 
spotic gods, to mock me with shadows and echoes'?" 
She trembled, and made no answer. " Thou shalt 
resume thy proper shape, said he, fixCrcely. " I be- 
lieve that light flowed from the primeval tone of thy 
own being; and by all the powers, I will extort it 



190 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

from thee, or chain thee forever, below the bed of yon 
dark river." 

He fixed his eye upon her intently, and said, with 
a powerful voice, "I will thee to resume thy former 
shape !" 

Convulsive spasms came over her, her limbs 
straightened rigidly, and her light went out in total 
darkness. At the same instant, a vivid flash illumi- 
nated the whole grotto, and Thot felt himself strick- 
en down, as by a powerful arm. He remained oblivi- 
ous for a long time. When consciousness returned, 
he was lying on a bed of sulphurous earth, and all 
around him was dense darkness and cave-stillness ; 
broken only by the distant rumbhng of the water- 
falls, and the sluggish murmuring of the river. Fear 
came over him, till the perspiration stood in large 
drops on his forehead. This is awful !" thought he. 
"What is my boasted creation but a tomb?" He 
called aloud on Freia, but the distant plashing of the 
waters was his only answer. 

Gradually, the pride and strong will of his uncon- 
querable spirit returned. He recalled the primeval 
word for fire, and rekindled his torch. The walls of 
his grotto sparkled in the flaring light, and there at 
his feet lay the corpse of a mortal woman. Whence 
came it ? It was fearful thus to be alone with silence 
and the dead. He pondered whether this could be a 
form he had mistaken for Freia. 

'- The universe is full of phantoms," he said, doubt- 
ingly. "All things mock me, and flit by. Yet this 
lifeless body must have been the form of her to whose 
voice of moonlight this fair grotto rose; and I will 
give it fitting burial." 

He went out into a spacious hall, and by the power 
of his spell, magnificent columns rose, in the centre 
of which, under an arch richly festooned, stood a 
sarcophagus. Tenderly, and with a feeling of awe, 
he placed the body within it, and covered it with 
sandj that he might see its face no more. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 191 

Then he wandered away to the innermost extrem- 
ity of those charming grottoes, wliere he for a short 
time had enjoyed beanty and a sense of power. Now 
all was changed. He was alone, dissatisfied, and 
sad. "She told me truly." he said; "The loveliest 
of my creations are all petrifactions. There is noth- 
ing alive." For the first time, tears flowed from his 
eyes ; and as he sighed for the vale of Ida, he mnr- 
mured, " I have deserved my exile thence." 

A soothing influence was wafted through his soul, 
and he fell asleep. In his dreams Freia again ap- 
peared to him, glowing with celestial beauty. Smil- 
ing, she said to him, "Thou hast never enslaved me. 
The Aasgaardsreja played with thy presumptuous 
pride. They gave to one of their own number the 
appearance of my form. It was the spirit of a North- 
ern poetess, who traded with the divine gift of song, 
to flatter the vanity of wealthy jarls. Therefore was 
she condemned, as a punishment, to wander with the 
Aasgaardsreja, who placed her in thy power, to do 
thy bidding as she best could. Me thou couldst not 
bind for a moment. If thou couldst fetter me with 
thy triangles and squares, the universe would stop 
its motions. Thou and I, dear Thot, are one from 
all eternity. Thou hast made this mournful separa- 
tion, by reversing the divine laws of our being. Thou 
hast thought to create the outward, and then com- 
pel the inward to give it life. But the inwai'd forms 
the outward, and thus only can the outward live. 
Seest thou not that all thy works are mere fragmen- 
tary accretions from things already created 7 All thy 
circles, and measured intervals, took form from the 
tones of my harp; but not by the triangles and the 
figures can the forgotten melodies be restored. I also 
know not whence they are. They came to me from 
the inmost shrine, and I transmit them, asking no 
questions. Thus let them flow into thee ; then spon- 
taneously and silently, without effort or noise, all thy 
forms shall live. When thou sincerely longed for ihe 



192 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

inward life, I came to thee from Mispelheim, and 
played rich harmonies ; which also were given to me, 
as I gave them to thee. Again, when thou wert gaz- 
ing humbly upward, I played on the moonlight raj^s, 
warblings that revealed to thee far more than all thy 
circles and squares. All thy labour gives thee but 
broken and insignificant fragments of that wisdom, 
which came to thee in perpetual revelation in thy glo- 
rious home." 

"But I am exiled thence," sighed Thot, "and 
how can I return ?" 

" Renounce thy pride. Cease thy vain efforts to 
compel the inward by outward laws. Be simply 
willing to receive through me, as I receive through 
the All-pervading." 

" But I am imprisoned here. When shall the pen- 
ance cease?" he asked. 

" If thou art humble, and willing to strive no more 
with thy outward laws, a long sleep will come over thee, 
and I shall be permitted to reveal many things to thee 
in dreams. At last, there will be born on earth a child 
strong enough to receive thy spirit, and delicate 
enough to be pervaded by mine. The echoes of my 
harp shall glide into his soul from all created forms. 
The grass shall whisper to him the primeval tone 
from which its being came; the birds shall warble 
it ; the vines shall dance it to him ; the flowers sigh it 
forth in fragrance ; the cataract and the sea tell it to 
his secret ear, with their stormy voices : the moon- 
light shall sing it with a mournful mystery, and the 
stars breathe it with a solemn sound. He will suf- 
fer more than others ; for all discords will jar upon 
him, and the hard world will crush his sensitive heart, 
as keen winds cut the delicate blossom. But if he is 
true to his mission, there remains for him a glorious 
recompense." 

" And what shall this mission be?" 

" To be strong in manhood, and yet remain a child 
in spirit. To let Nature breathe through his soul, as 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



igi3 



the wind through a tree. To believe all she tells 
him, and reveal it in immortal music." 

" And why must my return to Ida depend on his 
faithful performance of this mission?" 

Because through him we may become again united. 
Both thou and I must pervade his being. I will give 
him tone, and thou shalt give him power. But if thou 
shouldst tempt him with thy outward laws constrain- 
ing the inward life, thou wilt give him petrified forms 
for creations, and thus destroy his mission." 

''When shall this child be' born?" 

'• When he comes into a mortal body, thou shalt be 
wakened with a gushing, gladsome sound, and see 
before thee a semi-circle of columns, with a pure 
transparent fountain in their centre. This shall be to 
thee a token of his birth." 

-i^ .V, ,\^ OlJ, Af^ ^ 

'TV' -TT -TV "TV* -TV -Tf* 

Not easily did the rebellious spirit learn humility 
and faith. Again, and again, the old temptation came 
over him, and he asked scornfully, '' Why should I 
receive from her? She understands not the laws of 
her own being." 

"No," replied a gentle, tuneful voice; "but she 
obeys them." 

At last, the fierce discord became harmonised, and 
peaceful slumber stole over Thot. When he awoke, 
the cavern was bright as day. A semi-circle of 
beautiful columns stood before him, and in the centre 
leaped up a pure transparent fountain. A voice from 
within the sparkling waters said, "To-day, a babe 
is born, where rock-sheltered Bergen looks out on 
the surging billows of the German Ocean. His soul 
must be filled with thy struggling aspirations to re- 
produce all Nature. But he must receive all from 
Freia's harp, and not begin outward, as thou hast 
done. He must bring to the New World all those 
primeval tones, the utterance of which thou hast 
here so proudly laboured to compel. But he must 
not himself seek to know the secrets he reveals 
17 



194 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

Nature will smile graciously on her trusting child, 
and fold him warmly to her heart. Then shalt thou 
and Freia be united in the halls of Gladheim." 

Cheerfully did the spirit arise in his renewed 
strength, of which humility was the inward name. 
A light went before him, and showed where subter- 
ranean genii had rolled away the rocks, and formed 
a new opening into the upper world. 

As the sunbeams greeted his dazzled eyes, the 
earth seemed covered with a veil of flowing gold, and 
for a moment he thought he had returned to the re- 
gion of the immortals. But to the mountains of Nor- 
way he first must wend his way, no longer to dwell 
among the fogs of Niflheim. 

His subterranean workshop still remains, with its 
moimtains and its rivers, its waterfalls and stars, its 
church and tomb, its gushing fountain, and its mar- 
vellous grottoes of fairy frost-work. 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Strong and free grew the mountain child. Even 
in his cradle he felt the gliding presence of the tune- 
ful one ; but when he smiled in his infant sleep, they 
knew not that he heard sweet tones from an invisible 
harp. As he grew older, the insects drummed and 
fifed to him ; the star-points played to him with a 
twinkling sound; the golden grain waved to him in 
music ; and from the dance of the vines he learned 
the melodious tune of their life. He believed all the 
moon and the stars told him ; and therefore they re- 
A'ealed much. In manhood he remained a child, and 
still laughed and wept when the birds mocked his 
warblings, because they heard in them the tuneful 
mystery of their being. Men fain would have fet- 
tered his free spirit, and given him creeds instead of 
tones. But above all their din. sounded more and 
more clearly Freia' s harp ; and Thot urged him ever 
to beware of petrifactions, to receive the inward life 
unquestioning, and let it flow out into its own har- 
monious forms. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 195 

The minstrel of the North performed his mission 
with ardent freedom and a brave simpUcity ; and 
Thot and Freia are united forever in the golden 
or».oves of Ida. 



LETTER XXI. 

August 2, 1844. 

Various are the modes resorted to, to relieve the 
oppressiveness of summer in the city; but the pleas- 
antest are steamboat excursions on the river, with 
glee clubs and bands of music. There have been a 
variety of these this season ; but I think none of 
them have offered quite as many attractions as the 
trip in the South America, on the 30th of July. 
This vessel ranked as a queen among our steam- 
boats, until the Knickerbocker and the Empire were 
built; and though outdone in some respects by these 
magnificent rivals, she is a vessel of which an^^ city 
might be proud, and well worthy of the noble river 
on which she moves. She goes through the water 
with prodigious power, and is fitted up with great 
elegance. The upper and lower cabins are spacious 
and airy ; gay with a profusion of pahitings and 
gilded ornaments. 

We had a band of instruments on board, and the 
New- York Sacred Choir, of one hundred and fifty 
singers. This attraction decoyed me. It imparted 
something of sacredness, even to a crowded steam- 
boat. I never come into the presence of music, with- 
out feeling inclined to uncover my head, and put on 
a garland, as the ancients did, when they entered the 
temples of their gods. This feeling does not arise 
merely from the delight of hearing sweet sounds. 
It is founded on the conviction that music represents 



196 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

the motions of the universe, and expresses the infinite 
mysteries of creation. The mind of man cannot per- 
ceive this; but his heart hears some of the mystic 
whisperings, and these, for the time, place him in 
harmonious relation with the All-Pervading One. 

We left the city at five in the afternoon. The 
breeze was fresh, the sky bright, and recent rains 
had rendered every thing clean and verdant. As we 
passed the beautiful shores of the North river, people 
waved their handkerchiefs from verandahs and sum- 
mer-houses, and boys threw up their caps with loud 
hurras. One little fellow, who was bathing near the 
shore, began to dance in the water, to the music of 
our band. Seen among the distant shrubbery, he 
looked like Cupid frolicing with the water-nymphs. 

We went eighteen miles up the river, and then re- 
turned, and wheeled round and round the city, in 
the evening twilight. The circular battlements of 
Castle Garden, brilliantly lighted, projected into the 
water like a crown of stars. Hundreds of boats, 
with lamps at the prow, were scattered about like 
fire-flies. A swarm of club-boats lay side by side, 
ready for a race the next day, bearing the graceful 
names of lanthe. Cygnet, Mist, Spray, Dream, &c. 

All at once the moon came above the horizon, 
larger and more golden than 1 ever saw it. It really 
seemed like the satellite of a nobler earth than ours. 
It was received with a full salute from our band; 
Apollo greeting his regal sister of the silver bow. 
Two or three minutes after the moon rose, a luminous 
circular cloud encompassed her, and gave her a strik- 
ing resemblance to Saturn with his ring. It brought 
vividly to my mind the beautiful transparencies used 
by Dr. I.ardner, in his interesting lectures. I was 
much impressed by the appearance of Saturn wheel- 
ing across the glorious firmament of constellations. 
The lecturer had named all the other planets and 
comets, as they passed ; but Saturn sailed by unan- 
nounced. This wakened in me a proud and majestic 



LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 197 

feeling. To be the greatest of a clique, a clan, a 
sect, a party, or a nation, has ever seemed to me a 
pitiful ambition. The world itself is a small audi- 
ence for the inspired soul. But to be so unique in 
the universe, as to need no announcement — I found 
something grand in this ! For a moment, I would 
have liked to be Saturn, thus to walk as a god among 
the planets. But the next moment our little Earth 
crossed the starry firmament, with its one own moon 
revolving round it so lovingly forever. My heart 
shouted, " There is our home ! our own home!" and 
I would be Saturn no longer. 

With the moon, too, it was a brief fancy. She 
soon cast aside her luminous belt, and went up se- 
renely resplendent over the waters. By Apollo's 
golden harp ! it was magnificent to be rushing across 
the glittering mirror of the bay by moonlight, with 
music to give utterance to the yearnings of the heart! 
Then came haze and flitting clouds, under which our 
foam-wake, the ships, and the shore, wore the moon- 
veil so sleepily and dream-like ! I could have lain 
thus for hours on the bosom of drowsy Nature, while 
every pulse kept time to her lullaby. 

But Staten Island was our final destination, where 
a pic-nic for our party of seven hundred awaited us 
in a lamp-lighted grove. Thither we marched in 
procession, preceded by the music of the band. A 
concourse of people belonging to the island assembled 
round our tables, and we ate like kings and queens, 
for the entertainment of the public. When the hour 
arrived for returning to the boat, the choir of singers 
gave us " Auld lang syne " in full chorus ; and stran- 
gers as we were to each other, every one found a re- 
sponse in the memory of his heart. 

During the whole of the excursion, I was particu- 
larly pleased with the good nature that prevailed. 
Every body seemed happy, and desirous to help his 
neighbour to be so. But there was no vulgarity, no 
rude noises, no deficiency of politeness. Perhaps 



198 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

something might be attributed to the genial influ- 
ence of the scene ; but in the crowds of New- York I 
have always been struck with the general disposition 
to be good-natured and obliging. Such a rush of 
strangers have no opportunity to settle conventional 
claims, and they are compelled to fall back on the 
common brotherhood of the race. For his own. sake, 
no man refuses the courtesy of which he every hour 
feels the need. 

Choruses, glees, and songs, with occasional inter- 
ludes of the band, cheered our return, and we came 
up to the city to the tune of " Home, sweet home." 
This air, so like a mother's voice, was, as usual, an 
especial favourite. It shared the general favour with 
the "Old Granite State," and two or three others, 
endeared to the popular heart by those delightful 
mountain minstrels, the Hutchinsons. Midnight saw 
us safely returned to our hundred homes, the better, 
I trust, for having been bound together for a few 
hours in the golden circle of music and moonlight. 

In the afternon, we passed a steamboat full of 
Sunday-school children, with flags flying and the 
pleasant sound of youthful voices. VYe gave them 
three cheers as they passed, and they waved their 
handkerchiefs. The public schools and benevolent 
institutions of the city are often treated to excursions 
of this kind. I rejoice at this, and all other indica- 
tions that society begins to perceive her children need 
something more than food and raiment. 

This reminds me of a visit I made the other day 
to The Sailor's Home, in Cherry-street. It is the 
largest and best arranged institution of the kind in 
the countr}^ Indeed, it is the only one in the world 
built expressly for the purpose, except the Sailor's 
Home in London. The benevolent have made limit- 
ed arrangements for the comfort and improvement 
of seamen in several of our cities ; but New- York 
only has a large and commodious edifice erected es- 
pecially for their accommodation. It is six stories 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 199 

high, not inchiding the basement, and has ample ar- 
rangements for three hundred boarders. The rooms 
are pleasant, and well ventilated, and Croton water 
is introduced on every floor, with all conveniences for 
bathing. There is a museum, a reading-room well 
supplied with books and papers, and a bowling alley. 
Some of the stricter sort objected to this last, as likely 
to prove injurious, though no gambling is allowed. 
They were mistaken. Recreation is necessary to all 
men ; and peculiarly so in the leisure hours of those 
accustomed to an active life. If they could have a 
picture gallery, and a band of music every evening, 
it would be so much the better. Every instinct of 
man is good in its place. Not one was given to be 
repressed or annihilated. Healthy and appropriate 
channels for free development is all that is required 
to bring every thing into harmony. 

Captain Richardson, the Superintendent, is a con- 
scientious, kind-hearted man. He was a sea-captain 
many years, and knows the way to sailors' hearts. 
His ships were formerly as remarkable for temper- 
ance and good order, as his Sailor's Home now is. 
In fact, he acts the part of a father to the seamen 
who come under his care. He assists them in pro- 
curing voyages, investing money, (fee; and, avoid- 
ing rules and restraints as much as possible, he 
endeavours to make virtue and sobriety cheerful and 
attractive. The door is left unfastened during the 
night, guarded by sentinels, who watch alternately. 
" The sailors know we like to have them in by ten 
o'clock," said he; "but they may have occasion to 
stay out later, and yet be sober and worthy men. 
If they are not sober and worthy, so much the more 
need that we should not bolt them out." Tliere is a 
whole volume of Christian wisdom in that remark. 
Yet how slowly does society learn that "an ounce 
of prevention is worth a pound of cure." 

Shipwrecked sailors have a riglit to a home gratis 
at this institution ; and they make pretty free use of the 



200 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

claim. But true to their generous natures, those who 
return to this port are usually very honourable about 
settling arrears. A short time ago, a sailor presented 
himself, and said, "Captain, do you remember me?" 
"No, my friend, I do not." "Well, I don't wonder 
you have forgotten me. I came here a long time ago. 
I had been wrecked. You gave me my board, and 
got a voyage for me. You told me to take my ad- 
vance' wages for the clothes I needed. I owe you 
eventeen dollars, and I have got just the money. 
Here it is, and thank you, too. And now I want to 
get a short voyage, to earn a little money to go and 
see my old mother at Baltimore." After some inquiry 
into the merits of the case, Captain Richardson ena- 
bled the honest fellow to go home to his mother. 

Considering the great value of this institution, the 
merchants of New-York have been less liberal to- 
wards it than I should have supposed they would 
have been. They subscribed but $13,000. The 
establishment is now in debt $17,000, beside $10,000 
to the State, for land. The State will probably give 
them this debt, though there is persevering opposition, 
from those whose interests are injured by temperance 
houses. The State would doubtless a great deal 
more than save it, in the prevention of crime. It is 
impossible to calculate the benefits, direct and in- 
direct, of having six thousand sailors a year brought 
under the healthy influence of such an institution. 
Among the five hundred who meet there every month, 
there are many attracted by the character of the 
house, who decidedly prefer sobriety and modesty, 
and who take delight in reading, praying, and sing- 
ing hymns. These place no restraint on the move- 
ments of others less seriously inclined; but, a healthy 
influence goes forth invisibly from their example. 
New-York is not a Sodom, after all. 

" O, thou resort and mart of all the earth, 
Checkered with all complexions of mankind, 
AnJ spotted with all crimes ; in whom I see 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 201 

Much that I love, and more that I admire, 
And all that I abhor ; thou freckled fair, 
That pleases and yet shock'st me, I can laugh. 
And I can weep, can hope, and can despond, 
Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee ! 
Ten righteous would have saved a city once, 
And thou hast many righteous." 

All over the world the same spirit is wakening. 
A friend who resides at Rennes, in France, writes to 
me, " We have lately established an institution here 
to supply the law and medical students with amuse- 
ment, without injury to morals. It is a spacious edi- 
fice, well warmed and lighted, with libraries adapted 
to various departments of study and literature; a 
large shady garden, with alcoves for solitude; a bil- 
liard and play-room, where betting and cards are 
prohibited ; and a music-room, where there is a con- 
cert once a week. The small sum of two dollars 
annually secures to a young man all the privileges 
of the place. It is encouraging to see how many 
we win from the coffee-houses and lounging-shops. 
Many do all their studying there, and find in it a 
great economy of fire and light." 

What a blessing would such an institute be to the 
clerks, journeymen mechanics, and the thousand 
other young men in our cities, who have no pleasant 
homes to go to ! A prison costs more to the State, 
and is not half as profitable or agreeable. 

Enlightened self-interest might teach us this, if it 
were not for the fact that self-interset never can be 
enlightened. The highest and most cultivated indi- 
vidual in the community would derive direct advan- 
tage from a general elevation of character and pursuits 
among all the people. The largest lesson of wisdom I 
ever heard on this subject, was briefly uttered by a 
hard-working mechanic of Massachusetts. He sub- 
scribed one thousand dollars toward the establish- 
ment of a Normal School, to educate teachers for 
common public schools throughout the State. A friend, 



202 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

wlio knew he had but a small portion of this world's 
wealth, returned the paper to him, saying, " I suppose 
you mean one hundred dollars, and have accidental- 
ly written a cipher too much." 

" Why should you suppose that?" replied he. " I 
am a father ; and in what way can I so effectually 
advance the interests of my children, as by educating 
the comynunity in which they are to live 7^'' 

Society is like a child that first creeps, and then 
walks by chairs, and at last tries its own legs, aston- 
ished to find that they will do to stand on. Our 
sailors' home, our normal schools, our benevolent in- 
stitutions with pleasant gardens, our pictured steam- 
boats, our bands of music for all the people — all these 
things are feelers put out, slowly teaching the world 
that every son of Adam has a right to the free devel- 
opment of all his faculties, and the healthy enjoyment 
of all his tastes. 



LETTER XXII. 

August 17, 1844. 

You say you have the most intense longing to form 
some distinct idea of the present existence of the dear 
babe you have lost ; and therefore urge me to explain 
what are Swedenborg's teachings concerning the fu- 
ture life; particularly the state of those who die in 
infancy. The information, even if it has any weight 
with you, will not soothe the grief of mere natural 
aff*ection, or satisfy any selfish craving of the heart. 
But if all thoughts of self are merged m the wish for 
your child's spiritual welfare, a belief in Sweden- 
borg's testimony would make you happy. He does 
not say that we shall be united in the other world, 
on account either of natural relationship, or natural 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 203 

affection, however strong these may have been on 
earth. Spiritual consanguinity, or similar states of 
the Soid^ alone can produce companionship there. 
Strangers, who never saw each other in the body, 
may be very near together as spirits; while natural 
brothers and sisters, or legal husbands and wives, 
may be very far apart. 

Time and space are spiritually mere states of mind. 
We may partly understand this from facts in the pre- 
sent life, if we reflect that an hour seems a minute to 
a man about to be executed, while a minute seems 
an hour to the friend, who is hurrying to him with 
the pardon, that he fears may come too late. With 
regard to space, likewise, we all know what it is to 
feel very distant from a person that sits next to us, 
and very near to a person a thousand miles ofl". In 
the spiritual world, there are no obstacles of material 
space and time to overcome ; and therefore, according 
to Swedenborg, two persons whose affections are in a 
similar state, are near together the moment they 
think of each other. Thus it comes that our spiritu- 
al similarity, not our earthly love, produces vicinity. 
But if our friendship in this world has not been 
merely for the selfish and temporary purposes of con- 
venience, vanity, or passion ; if we have loved in each 
other what was good and true, and tried to help each 
other to be unselfish and pure, then are we spiritual- 
ly related, and the relation will pass into eternity. 

We are told that infants who die, enter the other 
world as infants. As they had here only the rudi- 
ments of capacity to become men, so they have there 
the rudiments of capacity to become angels. But 
their state is much better than that of little children 
in this life : for not being encumbered with a material 
body, which must receive impressions from the ex- 
ternal world, and slowly learn to use its senses by 
experience, they can act at once from their souls, and 
thus walk and speak without practice. They tlo not 
suffer from hereditary evils, because these are not 



204 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

their own. Had they Uved on earth to a mature age, 
these inherited evils would have tempted them se- 
verely and they might have made them their own, 
by bringing them into the deeds of their actual hfe. 
But having departed in infancy, they are in a state 
of innocence, into which heavenly good and truth 
flows freely, without resistance. They are troubled 
with no mournful recollections ; for they suppose 
they were born in heaven. As soon as their souls 
leave the body, they are folded in the arms of angels, 
who while they lived in this world were women full 
of maternal tenderness. Each angel has charge of 
as many children as she desires from spiritual paren- 
tal love. The speech of the little ones at first consists 
of mere flowing tones of afl'ection ; but these gradu- 
ally become more articulate and distinct, as ideas of 
thought enter. All things are tauglit tliem by de- 
lightful images, suited to their tender state. They 
learn fast, because no false principles, acquired du- 
ring their earthly existence, obstruct their understand- 
ing of truth, and no evils of life resist the reception of 
good. Swedenborg assures us that he has frequently 
seen them in beautiful gardens with their angelic 
teachers. Oftentimes, they had garlands on their 
arms and breasts, resplendent with the most heaven- 
ly colours. Porticoes conducted to interior paths of 
these gardens, and when the children passed through, 
the flowers above the entrance, shone with a celestial 
glow. From the merely external innocence of igno- 
rance, they are gradually led by the angels to inter- 
nal innocence, which is the highest wisdom. 

The other life is not represented as one of rest, but 
of progressive development by active usefulness. 
Some are engaged in' educating those who pass from 
this world in childhood. Others are ministering 
spirits to us mortals; forever trying to guard us 
against evil, to strengthen our good resolutions, to 
suggest images of beauty, and the truths of science. 
Authors and artists of genius. 1 believe, universally 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 2U5 

share the experience of Bettina, who says, " There 
were thoughts shaped within me. I did not perpend 
them, I beheved in them. Tliey had this pecuhari- 
ty, as they have stiU, that I felt them not as self- 
thought, but as imparted.''^ Still more distinct is the 
occasional consciousness of invisible help to souls 
struggling with many temptations, through the rug- 
ged paths of regeneration. 

Evil spirits perform the same office that they did 
while they were wicked men on earth ; only with 
augmented power. They try to pollute the imagina- 
tion of others with impme thoughts, to excite vin- 
dictive passions, to make truth appear falsehood, and 
selfishness the only good. If a man yields to their 
influence, and brings into deeds the thoughts and 
feehngs they tempt him with, their power in the next 
temptation is redoubled ; and if he goes on thus, tliey 
gain at last an almost irresistible mastery over him. 
Nothing is more common in the confession of crimi- 
nals, than the remark, " It seemed as if the devil 
pushed me on to do it. I did not seem to be myself." 

But if, on the contrary, we resist the temptation, 
and do not bring the evil feeling, or the false thought, 
into life, we grow stronger with every eflfort ; as the 
Sandwich-islanders believe that the strength of every 
conquered enemy passes into the conqueror. Tiie 
simple act of resisting temptation turns our souls 
away from those spirits whose bad feelings are simi- 
lar to something in ourselves; and in the same de- 
gree we are brought nearer to the influence of those 
angels, whose alTections are opposite to the evil with 
which we were tempted. Thus the free agency of 
man is preserved ; for spirits have over us just the 
degree of power which we give them, and no more. 
Angels are always desirous to restrain man from 
evil, to guard and bless him; but their ability to ap- 
proach him depends on spiritual laws, as unchange- 
able as any of the laws of natural science. 

The angels, in their relations to each other, to 
18 



206 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

spirits, and to mortals, are but mediums of the divine 
love and wisdom of God, flowing through them into 
the hearts and minds of men, and transmitted and 
received according to established laws. This inter- 
vention of mediums, this gradation of causes and ef- 
fects, pervades all creation. 

Sweden borg asserts that no man at his death en- 
ters at once into Iieaven or hell, but remains for a 
lime in the intermediate world of spirits. There, it 
is the continual efl'ort of angels to draw them out of 
the evils and falsities they have acquired on earth. 
Those errors and evils, which are merely the results 
of education, are easily separated from the soul; bnt 
those which men have deliberately adopted into their 
own lives, in the free consciousness of their wills, are 
parted with by great struggles. If mterior goodness 
and truth predominate over the evil and the false, 
the spirit is gradually regenerated by the influence 
of those angels who can approacJi it, because they 
are in affinity with its characteristic goods or truths. 
But if interior evil and falsehood predominate, the 
soul comes under the influence of spirits grounded in 
the same evils and falsities, and becomes worse and 
worse, with a constantly accelerating speed. The 
same law is manifested in the effect produced by 
wicked associates in this world. But the tender care 
of Divine Providence still strives to protect the sin- 
ner; for in this process of degeneration, he gradually 
loses the perception of the good and the true, and 
thus cannot sin so deeply as he would, if he saw 
clearly what he resisted. 

Swedenborg represents the joys of heaven as con- 
sisting in the subordination of self-love to the love of 
others. This, by progressive degrees, becomes so per- 
fect, that the highest angels love their neighbours 
{better than themselves, and each is active in minister- 
*ing delights to all. Of course, where every one 
brings his services as a free and beautiful gift, no 
GOO can have any deficiency of service from others, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 207 

SO perfect is the mutuality of love, and the orderly- 
gradation of various gifts. 

The torments of hell are said to consist in precise- 
ly the opposite state of things. There, the prevail- 
ing disposition is to compel others to serve ourselves. 
The effects are, of course, a mutual desire to deceive, 
provoke, annoy, and injure each other. This infer- 
nal reign of the evil passions, with the attendant re- 
sults, are represented as constituting the whole mis- 
ery of the wicked. The sun of God's love shines as 
freely on them as on the angels in heaven; hut by 
spiritual laws, as unalterable as the laws of chemis- 
try, they cannot receive the pure influence ; the state 
of their own will perverts it as it enters. 

Svvedenborg's doctrine of correspondence explains 
many other things in relation to the condition of 
souls hereafter. This doctrine is not, as many sup- 
pose, founded on mere fancied resemblances. He 
lays it down as a science ; the innermost pervading 
soul of all sciences. He declares that everything in 
the universe is but the form of some variation of 
thought or affection ; and if the thought or affection 
ceased, the form could not possibly exist. In other 
words, ideas and feelings are the souls, of which ani- 
mals, vegetables and minerals, are the bodies. These 
feelings and ideas are in their elements few and sim- 
ple ; but as musical sounds produce infinitely varying 
harmonies by their ever-changing relations and com- 
binations, so from these sentiments and ideas are 
evolved all the manifold forms of beauty and order 
in creation. But this doctrine of correspondence is 
not based on any imaginary resemblance, or natural 
analogy. It is founded on the fact that the spiritual 
idea is the producing cause, or soul, of the natural 
form. Thus the progressions of time are produced by 
the imperfections of human intellect, all the thoughts 
of which are successive, and all its knowledge ac- 
quired by degrees. Because, at this period of the 
world, elevated sentiments more than ever give tone 



2U8 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

to man's intellectual perceptions, therefore music ad- 
vances more and more toward perfection, though the 
other arts remain stationary. For good and pure af- 
fections are the producing cause of melodious sounds, 
and the embodiment of these affections in truths, 
bearing a right relation to each other, is the spiritual 
cause of harmony. 

Thus the large sentiment of human brotherhood 
takes manifested form in various truths. In one form, 
it seeks to break the fetters of the slave ; in another, 
to throw down the walls of sect ; in another, to abol- 
ish national antipathies. The holy sentiment of for- 
giveness of enemies takes to itself form in doctrines 
opposed to capital punishment, and in favour of in- 
creased kindness toward prisoners. The pure senti- 
ment of real marriage manifests itself in theories, 
which acknowledge woman as the equal, the friend, 
the partner of man in all his pursuits. Each of these 
is a melody from the central heart of love ; and be- 
cause the various modifications of utterance are com- 
ing more and more into accord with each other, there- 
fore the science of harmony improves. Chivalry 
was the first vague manifestation of the feeling 
that woman ought to be raised from the low level 
where sensuality had placed her. It is an obser- 
vable fact, that in about the same period of the 
world, appeared the first crude indications of har- 
mony in music ; and when chivalry was at its 
height, harmony had taken a distinct though very 
imperfect form, as a science. But it was hidden 
from the perceptions of man that one caused the 
other. 

In this world, men may surround themselves Avith 
material objects very opposite to their inward state. 
A bad man may make very delightful music, and a 
harlot may decorate herself with lilies of the valley. 
But it is otherwise in the spiritual world. There, a 
man is in the midst of those forms of which his own 
thoughts and feelings are the producing cause. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 209 

Hence, angels are surrounded by forms and colours 
beautiful according to their state ; and their speech, 
being in correspondence with their affections, is not 
only like music to the ear, but is very delightful to 
the interiors of the heart. Svvedenborg says he once 
heard an angel speaking to a hard-hearted spirit ; 
and he of the hard heart was so affected by the tones, 
that he wept. He said he had never wept before, 
but he could not help it now, because it was pure 
love speaking. 

Evil spirits, on the contrary, are surrounded by 
deformed shapes, seen in a lurid light, and their 
voices are harsh and discordant, in proportion to 
their degrees of evil. 

I have thus endeavoured to give you, as clearly 
and concisely as possible, an outline of what 1 un- 
derstand to be Swedenborg's statements with regard 
to the condition of the soul hereafter. In answer to 
your question how he knew the things which he de- 
clares, I leave him to answer in his own words. He 
says, " The things which are in the heavens cannot 
be seen by the eyes of man's body, but only by the 
eyes of his spirit. When it pleases the Lord, these 
interior eyes are opened, while man is withdrawn 
from the natural lights in which he is from the senses 
of the body, and is elevated into spiritual light, in 
which he is from his spirit. In that light, the things 
which are in the heavens have been seen by me. It 
has been given me thus to pass through the dwellings 
of the angels, in full wakefulness, when my interior 
sight was opened." 

I will here mention, merely as a curious psych- 
ological fact, that several people in magnetic sleep, 
though entirely unacquainted with the writings of 
Swedenborg, have described the spiritual world in a 
manner strikingly similar to his. A friend told me 
of a person in a clairvoyant state, who was asked 
where she was, She answered, "I am in the world 
of spirits." When asked how it looked there, she 
18=^ 



210 LETTERS FRO-M NEW-YORK. 

replied, "It is very beautiful. The light is brighter 
thau our sunshine, and makes objects more distinct; 
but it is so soft and golden, that it does not dazzle the 
eyes.' My friend asked her to inquire for Elizabeth 

, a^very lovely girl, who had died some months 

before. During her pilgrimage on earth she had 
been extremely attached to children, and had been 
devoted to their education from a sincere love of the 
occupation. The countenance of the clairvoyant 
mantled with an expression of delight, as she an- 
swered, " Oh ! Elizabeth is more beautiful than ever. 
She is surrounded by happy little children, who run 
to her with flowers they gather, and she is weaving 
them into garlands." 

When asked to find Mr. , who had been some 

time deceased, she said she could not. Being urged 
to seek him, a cloud went over her face, and she 
answered, with a sliglit shudder, " I don't want to go 
there. It is dark and cold." 

With regard to Swedenborg's claim to the respect 
and confidence of his readers, I will briefly state a 
few facts, and leave you to form your own conclu- 
sions in freedom. The unanimous testimony is, that 
he was a man of very virtuous life, and simple un- 
pretending manners. His knowledge of the sciences 
was remarkably extensive, profound, and accurate. 
He published treatises on the Animal Kingdom, the 
Vegetable Kingdom, and the Mineral Kingdom ; on 
Tides, Coins, the Construction of Vessels, on Chem- 
istry, Geometry, &c. &c. The most elaborate of these 
scientific works is entitled Opera Philosophica et Min- 
eralia. It ranks very high, for the variety and depth 
of learning it displays. The theory of the circulation 
of the blood was first indicated by him ; and he stated 
that seven planets were created from the sun of our 
solar system, in a work published long before Herschel 
discovered the seventh planet. His mechanical skill 
was manifested in various ways ; among others, by 
the invention of an easy and simple method of trans- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 211 

porting the largest galleys over the high mountains 
and rocks of Norway, to a gulf where the Danish 
fleet was stationed. The best memorial on Finance 
was presented by him lo the Swedish Diet of 1751. 
His scientific knowledge and mechanical skill were 
rewarded with many honours, at home and abroad. 
He was offered the professorship of Mathematics in 
the University of Upsala, which he declined. The 
king appointed him Assessor of the Mines, and con- 
fsrred upon him the title of Baron, by virtue of 
which he took his seat with nobles, in the Triennial 
Assemblies of the realm. 

I mention these facts, merely to show that Swe- 
denborg was a man of learning, and of practical good 
sense. His remarks on the animal kingdom, and the 
structure of the human frame, show that he thought 
deeply and earnestly concerning the mysterious con- 
nection between body and soul. In 1713, at the age 
of fifty-four, he relinquished scientific pursuits, and 
devoted himself entirely to writing those numerous 
theological works, which contain the doctrines of the 
present New Jerusalem Church. He repeatedly dis- 
claims the intention, or wish, to be considered the 
founder of a sect. He constantly declares that the 
doctrines are not a product of his own intellect, but 
imparted to him by express revelation, in a state of 
divine illumination. So strong and sincere is this 
belief, that he habitually proves one part of his 
writings by another; repeatedly saying, with the 
most child-like naivete^ "That this is true, is proved 
by what I have written in another volume." 

In these remarkable works, he speaks continu- 
ally of visits to ihe spiritual world, and of familiar 
conversations with men long since dead. That he 
had likewise the clairvoyant faculty of seeing objects 
in distant places on this earth, is well attested by 
abundant and unimpeachable evidence. Thus he 
told distinctly the beginning and progress of a fire in 
Stockholm, and described all the details with the 



212 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

accuracy of an eye-witness, at the precise time the 
fire occurred ; though he was in Gottenburg, which 
is three hundred EngUsh miles from Stockholm. In- 
stances similar to this became perfectly familiar to 
his friends and acquaintance, and were spoken of by 
himself with the utmost simplicity, as matters of 
every-day occurrence. 

Under these circumstances, it is no marvel that he 
came to be generally regarded as insane ; though his 
manners always remained simple and serene, and 
his scientific conversations profound and rational. 
For a time his theological writings were universally 
considered as the mere absurd ravings and grotesque 
visions of a crazy man. Being very voluminous, and 
written in Latin, they were sealed from the public. 
The few who looked into them were usually wearied 
by the hard dry style, or disgusted with what seemed 
to them improbable or ridiculous fictions. But by de- 
grees, a discerning few began to say, "There is 
method in this madness. These theories are not the 
product of an insane brain ; for the parts have har- 
monious relation to each other, and form a perfect 
whole." This class of readers increased, until these 
very peculiar writings spread into various languages, 
found a place in the libraries of scholars, mixed with 
theological studies in colleges, modified the preach- 
ing of various sects, aud became more or less infused 
into literature. He who had been contemptuously 
styled the crazy prophet, at last came to be most re- 
spectfully mentioned in public lectures, as a man 
remarkable for scientific learning and depth of spirit- 
ual insight. He was ranked with Kant and Goethe, 
as one of the three minds that would permanently 
afiect the coming ages. 

But such mention of Swedenborg is peculiarly 
offensive to his theological disciples. They approach 
him in quite another spirit. They think it wrong 
to criticise, or to explain philosophically, or to ex- 
ercise the power of rejecting any portion of his 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 213 

religious writings; because they believe them to be 
an especial revelation to him, for the establishment 
of a new church on earth, so perfect that no furtlier 
dispensation will ever be needed. 

Philosophers have replied that man's eternal pro- 
gression made ii impossible that any dispensation of 
truth could preclude the necessity of further develop- 
ments. They averred that Swedenborg did not utter 
himself like a prophet; that the stamp of his own sci- 
entiiic knowledge was on all his revelations ; that his 
views on some subjects were modified by precon- 
ceived opinions, and the prejudices of education. 
What he saw and heard in the spiritual world, they 
declared to be a reflex of his own state of mind; 
hence most of the spirits he met, were talking about 
tiie trinity, justification by faith alone, and similar 
subjects intensely interesting to his own mind. No 
one expressed a doubt that he himself verily believed 
that he saw and heard all he describes. The sim- 
plicity and innocence of the man seem to be so far 
respected by all who approach his writings. 

'rhere is a class of thinkers who are not his disci- 
ples, but who believe that his childlike reverential 
spirit, combined with such remarkably various learn- 
ing, and the singular power of abstracting his soul 
from the senses, fitted him, in a very peculiar manner, 
to be the transparent medium of profound spiritual 
truths. They do not accept all he says as true ; nor 
do they accept any of it as truth, simply because he 
says it. They think all finite mediums of infinite 
wisdom must necessarily be very imperfect. Dr. 
Johnson says, "Milton himself could not leach a boy 
more than he could learn;" and they argue that the 
angels must have been governed by the same law of 
liiinlation, in their revelations to Swedenborg. To 
prove that his perceptions of truth were modified, 
and sometimes obscured, by his own states of miud, 
they quote one of his own memorable relations. He 
says that once, when he was walking in the world 



214 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

of spiritSjhe saw some angels under a tree, eating figs. 
He said to them, "Give me of your figs." They 
did so; but in his hand they became grapes. "How 
is this?" inquired he : " Did I not ask you for figs?" 
They repUed, " We gave you figs, but you took 
grapes." 

We have all of us experienced something similar to 
this, when we have tried to talk on spiritual subjects, 
with minds differently constituted from our own. 
We often give figs to others, and see plainly enough 
that they can take only grapes. 

How Swedenborg saw what candid readers be- 
lieve he was perfectly honest in relating, is a ques- 
tion that puzzles many. Some suppose that by intense 
abstraction of spirit, while examining into the causes 
of things, he unconsciously acquired a self-magneti- 
zing power; by which he was placed in a state of 
clairvoyant perception, similar to that sometimes pro« 
duced by magnetic sleep. In corroboration of this, 
they quote the rumour that when his domestics en- 
tered his library, they sometimes found him in deep 
reverie, with a strange expression in his eyes, as if 
the soul were absent from the body. 

Whatever may be the solution of the mystery, 
Swedenborg is unquestionably the most remarkable 
phenomenon of the age. 



LETTER XXIV. 

September 26, 1844. 

The year, now entered on its middle age, wears a 
robe as gorgeous here in the city, as do the autumn 
woods of Maine, when the frost touches them in all 
their vigour, and suddenly clothes them with its 
glowing mantle of purple, yellow, and crimson. In 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 215 

simpler words, the ribbons, silks and cashmeres, are 
unusually brilliant and varied in their colours, this 
season. The ladies look like walking rainbows, and 
the shop-windows of Broadway and Canal-street are 
as gay and warmly tinted as the wardrobe of an 
Eastern princess. Wealth was never more lavish in 
expenditure, and poverty never more tattered and 
shrinking. Acres of flags are waving across the 
streets, with inscriptions for Clay or Polk. Proces- 
sions perambulate the city, from one extremity to the 
other. Orations are vociferated, by the light of bon- 
fires, from temporary rostrums in the squares, and 
Whigs and Democrats both disperse to the tune of 
'' Hail to the chief, who in triumph advances." 

Under this glittering and tumultuous tide, there 
runs ever a stiller and a deeper current. The artist, 
with quiet earnestness, is writing inward beauty on 
the outward, and thus unconsciously doing his part 
toward bringing the poles of the earth into harmony 
with the poles of heaven. The philanthropist, with 
patient love, is labouring in obscure places, to restore 
defaced humanity. The reformer, with strong hope, 
is striving to clothe the social state with stainless 
wedding garments, for its marriage with a purer 
church. Blessings on them all ! All, in their ap- 
pointed way, are mediators between the divine and 
human, and all are helping to fulfil the glorious pro- 
phecy of final at-one-ment between God and man. 

From the din of partisan strife, and the never-rest- 
ing scramble of Mammon, I seek repose and refresh- 
ment in the lap of nature; or if this be not conveni- 
ent, I walk to 322 Broadway, and lounge an hour or 
two in the rooms of The Arts' Union. Seated before 
Durand's exceedingly beautiful picture of the Passing 
Summer Shower, the landscape of life soon becomes 
touched with golden rays of hope, amid the sombre 
masses, and 1 cannot long remain without rainbow 
gleams within my soul. 

Many of these drawings and pictures are the work- 



216 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

mansbip of men engaged in hanks, stores, and other 
departments of active hfe. These can easily become 
artists by profession, if they find in themselves 
enongh of acknowledged talent to warrant the haz- 
ardous experiment ; if not, this tasteful employment 
of their leisure hours is an innocent and healthful 
recreation, well adapted to keep them from the mad- 
dening whirlpool of politics and dissipation. 

A good deal of mediocrity exhibits itself in these 
rooms; but it is always reheved by many agreeable 
things, and some really beautiful, wherewith to re- 
fresh the eye and the heart. Perhaps a marine 
sketch by Bonfield, with seas so translucent, that the 
colour of the sailors' jackets is seen through them, in 
waving reflections; and so full of billowy life, that 
the gazer almost feels the waves bound beneatli him, 
" like a steed that knows his rider." Or one of Crop- 
sey's landscapes, with foliage so light, that the 
breezes seem to play with it; and an atmosphere so 
clear, that the far-off distance is transparent. This 
artist is a young beginner, the son of a farmer on 
Staten Island; but a glance at one of his pictures is 
sufficient to show that Nature sung over his cradle, 

" This child I to myself will take, 
He shall be mine, and I will make 
An artist of my own." 

He paints genuine American landscapes; scenes that 
have mirrored themselves in his own eye and heart. 
May he trust to his own genius, and not lose him- 
self^ by trying to imitate the characteristic excellence 
of others. 

At these rooms, I saw the most beautiful picture I 
have seen for a long time. It is Columbus pleading 
his own cause, before Ferdinand and Isabella. The 
scene is in one of the fairy halls of the Alhamra. Its 
walls highly decorated with brilliant tints of the 
Arabian pencil, and its airy, fanciful, jeweled archi- 
tecture, so expressive of a chivalrous, poetic, and 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 217 

voluptuous people, are in admirable keeping with 
the glowing colours of the drapery ; and all is tem- 
pered by a soft pervading light. The whole atmos- 
phere of the place speaks of love, and song, and 
balmy zephyrs, of orange groves and alabaster foun- 
tains. The rich colours are mingled like cloud-tints 
of an autumn sunset, and so harmonized, that the 
effect is pleasing as a strain of music, 
j The expression of character is as admirable as the 
colouring. There is great variety in the faces, and 
a marked individuality in each ; but all are true to 
nature and alive with soul. 

In the noble figure of Columbus, one sees his na- 
tural enthusiasm tempered by age and sorrow, but 
still intense and eloquent. The head of Cardinal 
Ximenes is admirably expressive of the powerful in- 
tellect and strong will, for which he was remarkable. 

The attitudes, the grouping, and the drapery, are 
exquisitely free and graceful. This fine picture was 
painted by E. G. Leutze, a young artist of German 
parentage, a native of Philadelphia, now studying 
his art in Dresden. He had previously painted The 
Landing of Columbus in chains at Cadiz, which at- 
tracted a good deal of attention in Europe. He might 
have sold it well there, but he preferred that a pic- 
ture, the subject of which was so interesting to Ame- 
ricans, should be owned by one of his countrymen. 
He accordingly sent it home, expressly for the Art 
Union, with the expectation that they would make 
it the subject of one of their annual engravings for 
distribution. It is now being engraved by Mr. SchofF, 
a native of Yermont, and an artist of greai merit. He 
has been at work upon it nearly a year, and it will 
probably be two years more before it is finished. 
The Art Union have agreed to pay him $3000 for 
the plate. 

This Art Union, originally called the Apollo As- 
sociation, appears to me to be a most excellent insti- 
tution ; and I marvel much that it does not receive 
19 



218 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

more liberal patronage. The genius of onr gov- 
ernment is adverse to such munificent encourage- 
ment of art, as was bestowed in the olden time. 
On this side of the Atlantic, we shall never have, I 
trust, such patrons as Charles V., or the House of 
Medici; but we can foster art in a style better suit- 
ed to the freedom and equality of republican insti- 
tutions. 

One of the leading objects of this association is to 
scatter abroad works of native art among the masses 
of people, who are not able to pay such high prices 
as the rich can afford. To say nothing of the pleas- 
ure thus given, it is not easy to calculate the refining 
influence, that may thus be brought to bear on a na- 
tion too exclusively devoted to the practical, and far 
too eager in pursuit of gain. It is wise to guard 
against the grovelling tendencies of such pursuits, by 
the earnest cultivation of music, painting, and sculp- 
ture. While we welcome all foreign excellence, let 
us give these plants, of divine origin, a genial soil 
and a balmy atmosphere in our own favoured land. 

Another object of the association is to encourage 
artists of merit in their early efforts. It is a singular 
fact, and one that reveals how little the popular taste 
is yet formed for works of art, that every picture 
sold, for the two last years, from the National Gal- 
lery of Design, in this city, has been purchased by 
the Art Union. 

The practical operation of this institution is to en- 
courage the first aspirations of genius, to enable tal- 
ent to find its own level, without the certainty of 
starvation in the process. Some object to subscribe 
to it, on the ground that the annual distribution of 
prizes is too much like a lottery. But I think this 
objection is founded on misapprehension. It does 
not resemble a lottery, because it is not a plan to en- 
rich a few at the expense of many. It is a combina- 
tion of small means, to encourage art by some degree 
of the patronage once bestowed by popes and princes. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK- 219 

It1s by the people, and for the people; strictly dem- 
ocratic in its plan, and in its modes of operation. It 
is not like a lottery; for though the prizes are few, 
there are no blanks. Every subscriber is sure to re- 
ceive an engraving, if he is not lucky enough to draw 
a picture or a statue; and the engraving alone is 
worth his subscription. The pictures purchased 
from artists are annually distributed among the sub- 
scribers by lot. Some go to Rhode Island, some to 
Georgia, some to Ohio, and some to every nook of 
the Union. By this process, a public taste is being 
gradually formed, which will increase the demand 
for works of art, and stimulate genius to higher ef- 
forts ; for even the true artist is excited and helped 
by the sympathy and appreciation of his fellow- 
beings. 

The annual subscription of five dollars, entitles a 
person to all the privileges of membership. The sub- 
scribers do not yet number fifteen himdred ; and strange 
to say, not more than three hundred belong to this pop- 
ulous and wealthy city. It must be that people are 
not generally aware of the existence in their midst 
of an institution so honourable to New- York, so truly 
republican in its principles, and so extensively bene- 
ficial in its influence. 

The Art Union of New- York is the first and only 
association of the kind in the United States. There 
was one incorporated in Philadelphia, two years ago, 
but it has never gone into operation. They were 
first established in Dresden and Dusseldorf, and af- 
terward in Edinburgh, London, and Dublin ; in 
France, Bavaria, Holland, and Belgium. Reports 
from these various institutions indicate increase of 
pecuniary means, and improving taste for the Arts 
among the people. The London Society has been 
most successful. It does not distribute pictures, but 
money, which must be expended in the purchase of 
original British paintings. In this way, it distributed 



220 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

last year more than $60,000 among their native 
artists. 

In this country, where so many causes combine to 
infect everything with the spirit of trade, and where 
there is less to balance the tendency, than in older 
countries, we pecuharly need the quieting and re- 
fining influence of the arts. If we would avoid be- 
coming a nation of office-hunters, stock-jobbers, and 
pedlars, we ought to encourage all efforts to excite 
American genius, and improve the popular taste. 

Of the capabilities of our people we have sufficient 
indication, in the talent that has already struggled 
upward into the sunlight of fame. Sculpture espe- 
cially seems to favour republics. The earnest ex- 
pression and classic grace of Crawford's Orpheus, 
would have done credit to the best days of Greece. 
No artist in the old world competes with Powers, I 
believe. But there is one in New- York, as yet com- 
paratively unknown, and contending with adverse 
circumstances, who I think will as fairly claim the 
laurel crown. In Horace Kneeland's bust of Erics- 
son, there is at least large promise of this. The 
character and expression of the celebrated mechan- 
ician are remarkably well-preserved; the lips are 
singularly flexible, and the minute delineation of 
swelling veins and muscular indentations, give it 
that look of genuine flesh, for which the busts of 
Powers are so remarkable. We need not always 
wait for the foreign stamp to be put on American 
genius before we ourselves acknowledge its excel- 
lence. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 221 



LETTER XXIV. 



September 17, 1844. 

I REVISITED Greenwood Cemetery, a few days ago, 
and found many new monuments; one of which par- 
ticularly interested me, from the cheerful simplicity of 
its epitaph. The body of a mother and child rested 
beneath the marble, and on it was inscribed the words: 
"Is it well with thee 7 Is it well with the child? And 
she answered, It is well." 2 Kings iv. 26, This gives 
pleasant indication of real faith in immortality; like 
the Moravians, who never inscribe on their tombs 
the day when a man was born and when he died, 
but simply " the day he came hither, and the day he 
i/jent home.''' Why Christians should have chosen a 
skull and cross-bones for their emblem of death 
seems incomprehensible. The Greeks, notwithstand- 
ing their shadowy faith in a future existence, repre- 
sented death as a gentle and beautiful youth ; some- 
times as a sleeping winged child, with an inverted 
torch resting on a wreath of flowers. Even Samael, 
the awful death-angel of the Hebrews, resembling 
our popular ideas of the devil, was always said to 
take away the souls of the young by a kiss. 

If we really believed that those who are gone from 
us were as truly alive as ourselves, we could not 
invest the subject with such awful depth of gloom 
as we do. If we would imbue our children with 
distinct faith in immortality, we should never speak 
of people as dead, but as passed into another world. 
We should speak of the body as a cast-off garment, 
which the wearer had outgrown ; consecrated indeed 
by the beloved being that used it for a season, but 
of no value within itself 

A pretty, foreign-looking little chapel, now stands 
at the entrance of Greenwood, containing a bell, to 
19^ 



222 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

be tolled when the funeral trains pass in. I felt com- 
passion for it, because all its life long it was obliged 
to utter sad tones. With the melancholy mood it in- 
spired, came recollections of a singular incident con- 
nected with the history of my own family. The 
yellow fever raged fearfully in Boston, the last part 
of the eighteenth century. The panic was so uni- 
versal that wives forsook their dying husbands, in 
some cases, and mothers their children, to escape the 
contagious atmosphere of the city. Funeral rites 
were generally omitted. The " death-carts," sent 
into every part of the town, were so arranged as to 
pass through each street every half hour. At each 
house known to contain a victim of the fever, they 
rung a bell, and called, "Bring out your dead." 
When the lifeless forms were brought out, they were 
wrapped in tarred sheets, put into the cart, and car- 
ried to the burial-place, unaccompanied by relatives. 
In most instances, in fact, relatives had fled before 
the first approach of the fatal disease. One of my 
father's brothers, residing in Boston at that time, be- 
came a victim to the pestilence. When the first 
symptoms appeared, his wife sent the children into 
the country, and herself remained to attend upon 
him. Her friends warned her against such rashness. 
They told her it would be death to her, and no ben- 
efit to him ; for he would soon be too ill to know who 
attended upon him. These arguments made no im- 
pression on her aftectionate heart. She felt that it 
would be a life-long satisfaction to her to know who 
attended upon him, if he did not. She accordingly 
staid and watched him with unremitting care. 
This, however, did not avail to save him. He grew 
worse and worse, and finally died. Those who 
went round with the death carts, had visited the 
chamber, and seen that the end was near. They 
now came to take the body. His wife refused to let 
it go. She told me that she never knew how to ac- 
count for it, but though he was perfectly cold and 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 223 

rigid, and to every appearance quite dead, there was 
a powerful impression on her mind that hfe was not 
extinct. The men were overborne by the strength 
of her conviction, though their own reason was op- 
posed to it. The half hour again came round, and 
again was heard the solemn words, " Bring out your 
dead." The wife again resisted their importunities; 
but this time the men were more resolute. They 
said the duty assigned to them was a painful one ; 
but the health of the city required punctual obedi- 
ence to the orders they received ; if they ever expect- 
ed the pestilence to abate, it must be by a prompt re- 
moval of the dead, and immediate fumigation of the 
infected apartments. She pleaded and pleaded, and 
even knelt to them in an agony of tears ; continually 
saying, "I am sure he is not dead." The men re- 
presented the utter absurdity of such an idea; but 
finally, overcome by her tears, again departed. With 
trembling haste she renewed her efforts to restore 
life. She raised his head, rolled his limbs in hot 
flannel, and placed hot onions on his feet. The 
dreaded half hour again came round, and found him 
as cold and rigid as ever. She renewed her intreat- 
ies so desperately, that the messengers began to 
think a little gentle force would be necessary. They 
accordingly attempted to remove the body against 
her will ; but she threw herself upon it, and clung to 
it with such frantic strength, that they could not 
easily loosen her grasp. Impressed by the remarka- 
ble energy of her will, they relaxed their efforts. 
To all their remonstrances, she answered, ^'If you 
bury him, you shall bury me with him." At last, 
by dint of reasoning on the necessity of the case, 
they obtained from her a promise, that, if he showed 
no signs of life before they again came round, she 
would make no further opposition to the removal. 
Having gained this respite, she hung the watch up 
on the bedpost, and renewed her efforts with re- 
doubled zeal. She placed kegs of hot water about 



224 LETTERS FKOM NEW-YORK. 

him, forced brandy between his teeth, breathed into 
his nostrils, and held hartshorn to his nose ; but still 
the body lay motionless and cold. She looked anx- 
iously at the watch ; in five minutes the promised 
half hour would expire, and those dreadful voices 
would be heard, passing through the street. Hope- 
lessness came over her ; she dropped the head she 
had been sustaining ; her hand trembled violently ; 
and the hartshorn she had been holding was spilled 
on the pallid face. Accidentally, the position of the 
head had become slightly tipped backward, and the 
powerful liquid flowed into his nostrils. Instantly 
there was a short, quick gasp — a struggle — his eyes 
opened ; and when the death-men again came, they 
found lym sitting up in the bed. He is still alive, 
and has enjoyed imusually good health. 

Instances of this kind, though very rare, are well 
known to physicians under the name of asphyxia. 
The mere possibility of their occurrence is sufficient 
reason why the body should remain two or three 
days, before it is committed to the earth. I believe 
no nation buries with such haste as Americans. The 
ancients took various precautions. They washed and 
anointed the body many successive times before it 
was carried to the burial. The Romans cut ofl^ a 
joint of the finger, to make sure that life was extinct, 
before they lighted the funeral pile. 

The picturesque little chapel, with its bell that 
never speaks but in sorrow, led my thoughts into 
dismal paths. But my imagination always turns 
away quickly from gloomy associations. I soon be- 
gan to think how beautifully appropriate it was that 
a bell should call to worship. Its sonorous voice, fill- 
ing the whole air with royal sound, heard so sublime- 
ly clear above all the rattle and din of our poor every- 
day life, renders it worthy of the sacred olfice. Per- 
haps it was a vague feeling of this, which made the 
devout of former centuries believe that bells had pecu- 
liar power to drive away evil spirits; a superstition 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 225 

which was in fact the origin of bell-tolling at funerals. 
The Turks, though a much better people than we 
give them credit for, resemble evil spirits in their ab- 
horrence of bells. Nothing delighted them more in 
taking Constantinople, than the power it gave them 
to silence the "detestable bells." 

One would think that a chime of bells must be 
delightful to any human ear. I remember with great 
pleasure the chimes from Christ Church, in Philadel- 
phia. On Friday, the great market day there, it is 
customary to welcome the farmers into the city, by 
ringing a cheerful peal. Coming in with their loads 
of fruit and poultry, they very naturally understand 
the bells to say, 

" Now all ye married men, 
Get your money ready." 

This chime even bewitched one of the Society of 
Friends, though they rigidly abjure music. When 
the Quakers first rose up, a form of real spiritual 
life in the midst of sensuality and sham, music was 
most shamefully desecrated to low and profligate pur- 
poses. But so was language, and so was religion. 
If tones were excommunicated for being made me- 
diums of sin, words should have been banished too. 
How the kingdom of heaven can come on earth 
without music in it, is more than 1 can imagine. It 
would make the company of the saints like a spring- 
time without birds, or a year without blossoms. 

So it seems, thought Caleb Offley, member of the 
aforsaid religious society. He was half an idiot, and 
creation spoke to him in stammering and imperfect 
language; but music glided into his soul, like the 
tones of a mother's voice. He was forever lingering 
around Christ Church, listening to the beloved chimes. 
At last, he came to ring the bells better than any 
other person could. The Quakers reproved him for 
such light and frivolous employment of his time. 
The poor simple soul tried to stay away; but the 



226 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

sonorous chimes beckoned and called to him ever; 
and the passion became too strong for him. Those 
who liked to make use of his skill, injudiciously- 
tempted him with wine and strong drinks. His 
religious friends again interfered, and the culprit 
promised to take their advice. But after a while, he 
appeared before the elders, and said, "I have done 
very wrong, and I will try to do better. I will give 
up drink; I will give up anything you tell me; but, 
friends, I canH give up the bells." He was henceforth 
one of the bell-ringers on all public occasions, till the 
day of his death. 

I am impatient to have the magnificent structure 
of Trinity Church, in Broadway, completed, that Ave 
may have its chime of eight bells, which now lie si- 
lent, for want of a tower to swing in. There proba- 
bly will then be some contention between New-York 
and Philadelphia, which has the best chime ; as 
there now is, which has the grandest water-works 
and the most beautiful cemetery. Like the two 
chimes in Richmond, England, the burden of the 
song will be, 

"Who rings the best? Who rings the best?" 
"I do. I do." 

A traveller who found it difficult to decide which 
was superior in sweetness and distinctness of tone, 
gave the last the palm, on the strength of her own 
assertion. I should reverse the decision; for I never 
yet knew transcendent genius prone to sing its own 
praises. 

I had no idea how pleasant an effect could be pro- 
duced by hand-bells, until I heard the Swiss Bell 
Ringers, now performing in this city. It is a re- 
markable exhibition of mechanical skill and accuracy 
of ear. The company consists of seven men, who 
ought to bear the bell-toned Swedish name of Silf- 
verling. They use forty-two bells, varying in size, 
from a large cow-bell, to the smallest dinner-bell. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 227 

They had these bells maniifacUired for them, and 
carefully attuned by scraphig the metal. It took 
nine months of patient practice to attune them to 
a perfect concert pitch. The clappers are upon a 
spring. A piece of leather goes through the ball 
of the tongue ; the leather strikes the bell, and ren- 
ders the tones more soft and sweet. They place 
the fore-finger and thimib upon the sides of the 
hell, and thus obtain a steady hold, while they pre- 
vent disturbing vibrations. 

The lowest bell is the lowest C of the treble clef, 
and they run up three octaves and one fourth, with 
all the semi- tones. Four of them play the Air ; the 
other three play a harmony in the lowest octave of 
the bells, similar to a guitar accompaniment to a 
song. They play not merely simple carrillons, but 
elaborate and difficult music; the overture to Fra 
Diavalo, for instance. They trill notes beautifully. 
The effect of the combined sounds is extremely sweet, 
hquid, and melodious, like a powerful music box. 
As they often change places and bells, during the 
performance of a single piece, it is inconvenient to 
use notes, and they trust entirely to memory, which 
practice has made wonderfully perfect. They change 
their bells as rapidly as printers take up their types. 
If one of them rings a false note, it is instantly felt 
by all the others, and any one of them can tell in- 
stantaneously all the notes that are to be played for 
ten bars ahead. 

Their skill and exactness seem almost equal to the 
chimers of Cambridge, in England, who "rang a peal 
of 6600 changes, with such regularity and harmony, 
that in each thousand changes the time did not vary 
one sixteenth of a minute, and the compass of the 
last thousand was exactly equal to the first." 

This perfect mechanical eff'ect is the only draw- 
back to the pleasure in hearing them. If I were gift- 
ed with power to utter the music that struggles for- 



228 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

ever within me, I could not submit to such restraint 
in the mode of utterance. I should brealc all the 
bells in desperation. 



LETTER XXV. 



October 14, 1844. 



After an interval of several months, I have again 
heard Ole Bui, with quite as much pleasure as when 
his first performance took me by surprise. My soul 
loves to follow his music, as it glides from passionate 
energy into fairy grace ; now wandering away in 
dreamy poetic reverie, and now leaping up with sud- 
den joy, like a bright fountain in the sunshine. It has 
for me a charm like the Tempest and the Midsummer's 
Night Dream. The instrument, itself, increases the 
resemblance, with "its appetizing harshness, its racy 
sharp violinity." "As Shakspeare among poets, is 
the Cremona among instruments," says Bulwer: and 
certainly nothing equals it for beauty and delicacy of 
tone, variety of expression, and fitting utterance of 
the deepest and tenderest emotions. Most instru- 
ments are limited by their construction. Thus high, 
and no higher, can the notes go, whoever plays upon 
them. But the violin becomes v/hatsoever it is willed 
to be by the soul that wakes its melody. Its capaci- 
ties are infinite. It is like the human heart, with its 
laughter and its wailing, its sighs and shrieks, its love, 
and fear, and sorrow, and its aspirations that go be- 
yond the stars. While all other musical instruments 
liave been gradually changed in structure, this alone, 
through the lapse of three centuries, as Sphor informs 
us, has remained in its original simplicity. The royal 
voice with which it utters the inspirations of genius 
has consecrated it to my imagination, and it brings a 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 229 

flush to my cheek to hear it called a fiddle. But this 
is foolish. The tripod is a cooking utensil in Ger- 
many ; and the most common and universal ever lies 
nearest to the infinite. 

It would be curious to know how much climate 
has had to do with the flashing energy and impas- 
sioned earnestness of this -Norwegian minstrel. The 
scenery and sounds, to which we are accustomed 
from infancy, are a spiritual atmosphere, impercepti- 
bly fashioning the growth of our souls; and a ner- 
vous organization so acute and delicate as his, must 
have been peculiarly susceptible to all sensuous influ- 
ences. 

Where on this planet is a place so sublimely appro- 
priate as the rocky coast of Norway, to the newly 
invented iEolian sea signals ? Metal pipes, attached 
to floating buoys, are placed among the breakers, and 
through these do the winds lift their warning voices, 
louder and louder, as the sea rages more and more 
fiercely. Here is a magnificent storm-organ, on which 
to play " Wind of the winter night, whence comest 
thou?" 

On this coast has Ole Bui, from childhood, heard 
the waves roar their mighty bass to the shrill soprano 
of the winds, and has seen it all subside into sun- 
flecked, rippling silence. There, in view of mighty 
mountains, sea-circled shores, and calm, deep, blue 
fiords, shut in by black precipices and tall green for- 
ests, has he listened to '' the fresh mighty throbbings 
of the heart of Nature." Had he lived in the sunny 
regions of Greece or Italy, instead of sea-girt Norway, 
with its piled up mountains, and thundering ava- 
lanches, and roaring water-falls, and glancing auro- 
ras, and the shrill whispering of the northern wind 
through broad forests of pines, I doubt whether his 
violin could ever have discoursed such tumultuous 
life, or lulled itself to rest with such deep-breathing 
tenderness. 

I know not what significance the Nord-men have 
20 



230 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

in the world's spiritual history ; but it must be deep. 
Our much boasted Anglo-Saxon blood is but a rivulet 
from the great Scandinavian sea. The Teutonic lan- 
guage, " with its powerful primeval words — keys to 
the being of things" — is said by the learned to have 
come from the East, the source from which both 
light and truth dawned upon the world. This lan- 
guage has everywhere mixed itself with modern 
tongues, and forms the bone and nerve of our own. 
To these Nord-men, with their deep reverence, their 
strong simplicity, their wild, struggle-loving will, we 
owe the invention of the organ, and of Gothic archi- 
tecture. In these modern times, they have sent us 
Swedenborg, that deep in-seeing prophet, as yet im- 
perfectly understood, either by disciples or opponents; 
and Frederika Bremer, gliding like sun-warmth into 
the hearts of many nations ; and Thorwaldsen, with 
his serene power and majestic grace ; and Bethooven, 
with aspirations that leap forth beyond the "Haming 
bounds of time and space;" and Ole Bui, with the 
primeval harmonies of creations vibrating through 
his soul m infinite variations. Reverence to ihe Nord- 
men ; for assuredly their strong free utterance comes 
to us from the very heart of things. 

Influences that pass into the soul from the outer 
world, inevitably transmit themselves through music, 
even more than through the other arts; and thus 
transmitted, they reproduce their images in the soul 
that hears. If I stood suddenly in the midst of that 
sublime and romantic Northern scenery; if my ear 
caught, for the first time, the voice of some peasant 
maiden, warbling the wild, simple, plaintive airs of 
Norway, memory might puzzle me with the question, 
" Has my soul been here before me ?" For the sub- 
tlest of all essences is this spiritual magnetism, which, 
by continual transmission and re-transmission, per- 
vades our life. Even on our physical being do these 
sensuous influences leave their mark. They classify 
the nations, and are sometimes strongly impressed on 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 231 

individuals. They would always be so, if we were 
free and true; for our bodies would then become trans- 
parent mediums of the spirit. Wordsworth thus de- 
scribes the young maiden, to whom Nature was "both 
law and impulse": 

'' She shall lean her ear 

In many a secret place, 

Where rivulets dance their wayward round, 

And Beauty, born of murmuring sound. 

Shall pass into her face." 

The engraved likeness of Ole Bui often reminds 
me of these lines. It seems listening to one of his 
own sweet strains of melody, passing away, away 
— and vanishing into the common air, fine as the 
mist scattered afar by the fountains. The effect, 
thus transmitted in form by the artist, reproduces its 
cause again ; for as I look upon it, a whirling spray 
of sound goes dancing through my memory, to the 
clink of fairy castanets. When I look at Domeni- 
chino's Cumaean Sibyl, and Alston's wonderful pic- 
ture of the Lady Hearing Music, my soul involun- 
tarily listens, and sometimes hears faint wandering 
strains of melody. 

The expression of scenery and character were very 
clearly conveyed to me in Ole Bui's Fantasia of 
Scottish melodies. Most of the tunes I could distin- 
guish only through a mist, they whirled after each 
other so rapidly, and were twined together with such 
a graceful arabesque of variations. But the whole 
of Scotland's heart seemed to be poured forth in it. 
The plaintive voice of domestic love, among a serious 
and earnest people ; the reverential feeling of a moun- 
tain race ; the pride of ancestral clans; the romantic 
loyalty that would defend a Stuart unto death ; the 
stern strength of Presbyterianism ; the marching of 
regiments through the Highlands, to the shrill sound 
of the bagpipe ; and the free voice of the hiuiter, over 
the hills and far awa'. I could imagine how spiritual 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



beings could thus utter all things in tones, and tell a 
nation's history in music. 

His Fantasia of Irish airs is as plainly the voice of 
a people who have suffered much and long. A sort 
of suppressed sigh runs through all their warm 
breathings of love for Ireland. Their patriotism ut- 
ters itself in the voice of a widow's child, singing to 
his lonely and desolate mother. Even the merry 
tunes of Ireland tell the same sad story. It is not 
the jovial carouse of England, or the light-hearted 
carol of France. It is the convulsive reaction, the 
sudden leaping up, of a depressed spirit. 

The fate of the poor African, too, is told in his 
simple melodies, so full of wild animal gaiety, so 
easily subsiding into mournful modulations. 

This spiritual expression of music is heard in very 
different degrees by different people, and by some 
not at all. One man remarked, as he left Ole Bui's 
concert, "Well, there is no such thing as getting a 
dollar's worth of music out of a fiddle, in three hours." 
Of the same concert, a man of thorough musical 
science, and deep feeling for his beautiful art, writes 
to me thus : •' Ole Bui has certainly impressed me, 
as no man ever impressed me before. The most 
glorious sensation I ever had, was to sit in one of his 
audiences, and feel that all were elevated to the same 
pitch with myself. My impulse was to speak to 
every one as to an intimate friend. The most indif- 
ferent person was a living soul to me. The most 
remote and proud, I did not fear or despise. In that 
element, they were all accessible, nay, all worth 
reaching. This surely was the highest testimony to 
his great Art, and his great soul." 

An eloquent writer, who publishes under the fic- 
titious signature of John Waters, describes his first 
impressions of liizst's piano-playing, with an enthusi- 
asm that 'would doubtless seem very ridiculous to 
many who listened to the same sounds. He says, 
that "with blow after blow upon the instrument, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 233 

with his whole force, he planted large columnar 
masses of sound, like the Giant's Causeway. The 
instrument rained, hailed, thundered, moaned, whist- 
led, shrieked, round those basaltic columns, in every 
cry that the tempest can utter in its wildest parox- 
ysms of wrath. ^^ :^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Then we were borne along, through countless 
beauties of rock, and sky, and foliage, to a grotto, 
by the side of which was a fountain that seemed one 
of the Eyes of the Earth, so large and darkly brilliant 
was it, so deep and so serene. Here we listened to 
the voices rather than the songs of birds, when the 
music by degrees diminished, then fluttered and 
ceased." 

A lady, to whom he spoke of the concert, acknow- 
ledged that the sounds had brought up very sim^ilar 
pictures in her soul; but probably not ten of the 
large audience listened in such a spirit. That it was 
thus received by a?nj, shows that it was in the music, 
whether the composer was aware of it or not ; and 
genius only can produce these magical eflects, even 
on a few. 

To Him who made the ear a medium of pleasure 
to the soul, I am humbly grateful for delight in sweet 
sounds; and still more deeply am I grateful that the 
spiritual sense of music is more and more opened to 
me. I have joy in the consciousness of growth, as I 
can imagine a flower might be pleased to feel itself 
unfolding, and expanding to the sun-light. This e.r- 
j)ressiveness of music, no man ever revealed to me 
like Ole Bui; and therefore, in my joy and gratitude, 
I strive, hke a delighted child, to bring all manner 
of garlands and jewels, wherewith to crown his genius. 

Here is a wreath of wild-flowers to welcome his 
return : 

Welcome to thee, Ole Bui ! 

xV welcome, warm and free! 
For heart and memory are full 

Of thy rich minstrelsy. 

20-^ 



234 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

'T is music for the tuneful rills 
To flow to from the verdant hills ; 
Music such as first on earth 
Gave to the Aurora birth. 

Music for the leaves to dance to ; 
Music such as sunbeams glance to; 
tjij^ Treble to the ocean's roar, 

On some old resounding shore. 

Silvery showers from the fountains; 
Mists unrolling from the mountains ; 
Lightning flashing through a cloud, 
When the winds are piping loud. 

Music full of warbling graces. 
Like to birds in forest places. 
Gushing, trilling, whirring round, 
Mid the pine trees' murm'ring sound. 

The martin scolding at the wr^n. 
Which sharply answers back again, 
Till across the angry song 
Strains of laughter run along. 

Now leaps the bow, with airy bound. 
Like dancer springing from the ground. 
And now like autumn wind comes sighing. 
Over leaves and blossoms dying. 

The lark now singeth from afar, 
Her carol to the morning star, 
A clear soprano rising high, 
Ascending to the inmost sky. 

And now the scattered tones are flying, 
Like sparks in midnight darkness dying 
Gems from rockets in the sky. 
Falling — falling — gracefully. 

Now wreathed and twined — but still evolving 
Harmonious oneness in revolving ; 
Departing with the faintest sigh, 
Like ghost of some sweet melody. 



J 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 235 

As on a harp with golden strings, 

All nature breathes through thee, 
And with her thousand voices sings 

The infinite and free. 

Of beauty she is lavish ever ; 

Her urn is always full ; 
But to our earth she giveth never 

Another Ole Bui. 



LETTER XXVI. 

October 21, 1844. 

Many of the Millerites believed that last week was 
appointed for the burning of the world; not "posi- 
tively for the last time this season," however, for a 
majority suppose it will occur to-morrow. Their sys- 
tem of theological navigation is supplied with elabo- 
rately prepared charts, from which they learn that 
" the Lord will certainly leave the mercy seat on the 
13th of this present October, and appear visibly in the 
clouds of heaven on the 22d." Alas for every one ot 
us, sinners or saints, if our Father should leave the 
mercy seat, even for so brief an interval! 

It was stated some time ago, in the papers, that Mr. 
Miller had given it as his opinion, that if the pro- 
phecy was not fulfilled, as expected, last spring, it 
would occur soon after the autumnal equinox. Mean- 
while, even the memory of this excitement seemed 
to have passed away from the ever busy crowd. But 
with ihe autumnal equinox, it returned with renewed 
fervor. Mrs. Higgins, a young woman from Boston, 
I believe, is here preaching with that enthusiasm 
and earnestness of conviction, which always imparts 
a degree of eloquence. She and her zealous coadju- 
tors are creating a prodigious ferment, and making 



236 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

many proselytes ; all of whom are welcomed to their 
ranks, as brands plucked from immediate burning. 

A man, who has tended an apple-stall near the 
Park, went to hear her, and straightway gave away 
all his fruit and cakes, to the great dehght of the chil- 
dren, who became warmly interested to have this 
faith spread through all the cake-shops and apple- 
stalls. A vender of stoves, near by, has shut up his 
shop, with the announcement that no more stoves will 
be needed on this earth. A shoe-maker in Division- 
street, began to give away all his stock ; but his son 
came in during the process, and caused him to be 
sent to an insane asylum, till the excitement of his 
mind abated. A shop in the Bowery mounted a pla- 
card, on which v/as inscribed, in large letters, Muslin 
FOR Ascension Robes ! I know not whether this was 
done for waggery, or from that spirit of trade, which 
is ever willing to turn a penny on war, pestilence, or 
conflagration. 

Thousands of minds are in a state of intense alarm, 
but I have heard of very few instances of stolen mo- 
ney restored, or fasehoods acknowledged, as a prepa- 
ration for the dreaded event. One man, of whom I 
bought some calico, took two cents a yard less than 
he asked. When I thanked him, he said, " I suppose 
you are surprised that I should diminish the price, af- 
ter you have bought tlie article ; but the fact is, I have 
been hearing Mr. Miller, and I thought he proved his 
doctrine clear enough to satisfy any body. If we are 
all to come to an end so soon, it is best to be pretty 
moderate and fair in our dealings." " But we cannot 
come to an end," said I. "Oh, I meant the world, 
and our bodies," he replied. "And if they come to 
an end in '98 instead of '44, is it not still best to be 
moderate and fair in our dealings '?" said I. He ad- 
mitted the premises; but as one admits an abstraction. 

A prophet who appeared in London, many years 
ago, and predicted the destruction of the world, from 
Scripture authority, produced a much more decided 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 237 

effect in driving people into good works. Under his 
preaching, very large sums of money were restored, 
and seventy thousand persons were married, who had 
formed iUicit connexions. 

This reminds me of a fine old building, demolished 
a few years ago, in the north part of Boston. It was 
built by Sir Harry Falkland, who held a high office 
under the crown, in old colonial days. I think 
Cooper has described it in some of his early works. 
When I saw it, it was inhabited by several labouring 
families, and was in a poor state of preservation. 
But through all the dust and scratches, I could per- 
ceive that the tesselated floor of various coloured 
woods, with the baronet's coat of arms in the centre, 
had once been very beautiful. The panels were a 
series of landscapes in gilded borders ; and every now 
and then, in some closet or recess, one was startled 
by an owl, a falcon, or an eagle, done in fresco. 
Tradition said that Lady Falkland required her 
daughters to dance on the variegated oaken floor, 
with waxed shoes, till it shone like a mirror. When 
one of the daughters was married, the little slave, 
who brought wine and cake on a silver salver, tripped 
on the smooth surface; whereupon she received a 
whipping ; as have many other persons in this world, 
for tripping in paths made needlessly slippery. 

Tradition further says, that Lady Falkland was 
not always the wife of Sir Harry. She accompanied 
him when he was ambassador to Portugal, and lived 
with him without the sanction of the law, for several 
years. The great earthquake of 1755 came; and 
Lisbon reeled and tottered from its foundations. 
They saw houses crack asunder, and the earth yawn 
in the streets. They thought the end of the world 
had come ; and the first thing they did was to run to 
a church, and beseech a priest to marry them, amid 
the heaving and trembling of the elements. 

Some of the Millerites have written glowing letters, 
intreating me to make haste to escape from the wrath 



238 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

that is impending over all unbelievers. One of them 
has seen me in a vision, radiating light, and considered 
this a special indication that I was to be summoned to 
ascend with the saints. I feel sincerely grateful to 
these kind, well-meaning persons, for their anxiety 
to save me. But if there has been no preparation in 
my previous life, the effort to make ready in a few 
days could avail but little. Even if I thought the 
end of all things was so very near, I could see no 
better way of preparing for it, than by purity of life 
and conversation, a heart at peace with all men, and 
diligent efforts to do all in my power to save and 
bless. And if the earth is to revolve on its axis for 
millions of years, still in that direction only lies the 
spirit's ascending path. 

What matters it to me whether the world is de- 
stroyed in 1844, or in 18,044? For me it must soon 
cease to exist, even if nature pursues its usual course. 
And what will it concern my spirit, in the realms 
beyond, whether this ball of earth and stones still 
continues its circling march through space, or falls 
into the bosom of the sun 7 Let spirit change forms 
as it will, I know that nothing is really lost. The 
human soul contains v/ithin itself the universe. If 
the stars are blotted out, and the heavens rolled up 
as a scroll, they are not lost. They have merely 
dropped the vesture that we saw them by. " Life 
never dies ; matter dies off it, and it lives elsewhere." 

My belief in spirit is so strong, that to me matter 
appears the illusion. My body never seems to me to 
be myself Death never seems to me an end of life, 
but a beginning. I suppose it is owing to this vivid 
and realizing sense of spiritual existence, that the 
destruction of the visible world would have so little 
power to affect me, even if I foresaw its approach. 
It would be but a new mode of passing into life. For 
the earth I have the same sort of affection that I have 
for a house in which I have dwelt ; but it matters 
not to me whether I pass away from it, or we pass 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 239 

-away together. If I live a true and humble life, 1 
shall carry with me all its forms of love and beauty, 
safe from the touch of material fire. 

I am sorry that the Millerites have attracted the 
attention of a portion of our population, who delight 
to molest them, though it is more from mirth than 
malice. All sincere convictions should be treated 
respectfully. Neither ridicule nor violence can over- 
come delusions of this sort, or diminish their power 
to injure. Such crowds are continually about the 
doors of the Millerite meetings, that it is almost dan- 
gerous to life and limb to effect an entrance. Stones 
and brickbats are thrown in, and crackers and torpe- 
does explode under their feet. The other night, 
while Mrs. Higgins was exhorting and prophesying, 
with tempestuous zeal, some boys fired a pile of 
shavings outside the window near which she was 
standing, and at the same time kindled several 
Roman candles. The blue, unearthly light of these 
fire- works illuminated the whole interior of the build- 
ing with intense brilliancy, for a moment. 

The effect on the highly excited congregation was 
terrible. Some fainted, and some screamed. Several 
serious accidents happened amid the general rush; 
and one man, it is said, was so deranged with nerv- 
ous terror, that he went home and attempted to cut 
his throat. The mayor, and a strong array of 
constables, now attend the meetings, to prevent a 
repetition of these dangerous tricks. But the preach- 
ers say that no protection is needed ; for four angels 
are stationed at the four corners of the earth, and 
they have sealed the foreheads of all the saints, so 
that no harm can come to them. 

I often hear this called a singular dekision ; but to 
me it seems by no means singular. The old Jewish 
idea of an external kingdom with the Messiah passed 
into Christian belief, with many other traditions. In 
the very first centuries of the church, there was a 
sect which believed that the Roman empire would 



240 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

be overthrown, that all the wicked would be de- 
stroyed, and the faithful would arise from the dead, 
to enjo}'' a paradise on earth with the faithful living. 
Every ear of wheat would then produce ten thousand 
grains, and every grain ten pounds of wheat flour; 
and every vine would yield millions on millions of 
measures of wine. The JNew Jerusalem would de- 
scend from heaven, and furnish them with splendid 
houses. 

The end of the world was very strongly expected 
by some in the year 1000. A sect of this kind rose 
among the Lutherans, soon after the Thirty Years' 
War. Bengel, a famous mystical writer, calculated 
that the millenium would begin in 1836, and last 
two thousand years. Up to the present period, the 
external theological teaching of our churches has 
tended to cherish similar ideas. The people have 
been told for a series of years, that the world would 
be destroyed by material fire, and that the Messiah 
would come visibly in the heavens, to reign as a king 
on the earth. It is but one step more, to decide 
when these events w^ill occur. T'he Jews, who, in 
the first advent of a Messiah, expected a powerful 
prince, to conquer the Romans, and restore the na- 
tional glory of Judea, were not more grossly exter- 
nal in their application of the prophecies, than are 
most of the theological commentators on the second 
advent. Yet, unconscious of the limitation of their 
own vision, they speak with patronizing compassion 
of the blindness of the Jews. If men applied half as 
much common sense to their theological investiga- 
tions, as they do to every other subject, they could 
not worship a God, who, having filled this world 
with millions of his children, would finally consign 
them all to eternal destruction, except a few who 
could be induced to believe in very difficult and 
doubtful explanations of prophecies, handed down to 
us through the long lapse of ages. 

Beneath the veil of this external belief, there is, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 241 

however, spiritual significance and prophecy. The 
old heavens and the old earth must pass away, and 
they are passing away. In other words, the religious 
sentiment of Christendom is changing; and of course 
old theological opinions, which are merely the garb 
of sentiments, are everywhere falling oif, like tatter- 
ed, scanty, and ill-fitting garments. As the church 
changes, the state inevitably changes, too ; and the 
civil and social condition of man is slowly ascending 
to a higher plane. 

This is felt, even by those who deprecate it, and 
would avert it, if they could; and pressing thus on 
the universal consciousness, its ultimate and most 
external form is Millerism. The coming of a new 
heaven and a new earth cannot reveal itself to their 
apprehension through any other medium, than the 
one in which they announce it. Walking in the 
misty twilight of outward interpretations, they easily 
mistake the angel approaching with a halo round his 
head, for a demon of vengeance, torch in hand, to 
set the world on fire. 



LETTER XXVIL 



November 7, 1844. 



A French writer describes November as " the 
month in which Englishmen hang and drown them- 
selves." No wonder they are desperate, when they 
have an almost permanent fog superadded to the 
usual gloomy accompaniments of retreating summer. 
In early life, I loved scenes that were tinged with 
sadness ; because they invited to repose the exuber- 
ant gayety of my own spirit : 
21 



242 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

"In youth, we love the darksome lawn 

Brushed by the owlet's wing ; 
Then twilight is preferred to dawn, 

And Autumn to the Spring. 

Sad fancies do we then affect, 

In luxury of disrespect 
To our own prodigal excess 

Of too familiar happiness." 

But now, alas, I have no joyousness to spare ; and I 
would fain borrow from the outward that radiance 
which no longer superabounds within. 

I felt this oppressively the other day, when I went 
over to Staten Island. Here and there, in the deso- 
late fields, a long withered leaf fluttered on some 
dried corn-stalk, standing up like Memory in the lone 
stubble-field of the Past, where once had been the 
green budding of hopes, and the golden harvest of 
fruition. The woods, which I had seen in the young 
leafiness of June, in the verdant strength of summer, 
and in their rich autumnal robe, were now scantily 
dressed in most dismal brown. Some of the trees 
had dropped the decaying vesture, and stood in dis- 
tinct relief against the cold grey sky. But I found 
pleasure in their unclothed beauty, its character was 
so various. The boughs of no two trees ever have 
the same arrangement. Nature always produces in- 
dividuals ; She never produces classes. Man is at 
war with her laws, when he seeks to arrange opin- 
ions into classes, under the name of sects ; or employ- 
ments into classes, on account of sex, colour, or con- 
dition. 

The woods of Staten Island are very beautiful in 
their infinitely various shading, from the deepest to 
the liveliest green. But neither here, nor anywhere 
else in the State of New- York, have I seen such a 
noble growth of trees, as in New-England. When I 
think of the magnificent elms of Northampton and 
Springfield, the kings of the forest here dwindle into 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 243 

mere dwarfs in comparison. This slight association 
of thought brought vividly before my inward eye the 
picturesque valley of the Connecticut. I saw Mount 
Tom looking at me gray and cold in the distance. 
I saw old Holyoke in various garbs ; fantastic, grand, 
or lovely, as mists, cloud-shadows, storm, or sunlight, 
cradled themselves on his rugged breast. There 
always seemed to me something peculiarly Christian 
in the character of mountain scenery; forever point- 
ing npward, rising with such serene elevation above 
the earth, and overlooking the whole^ with such all- 
embracing vision. In the groves, I think of dryads; 
by the ocean, I have many fancies of Nereides and 
Tritons; but never do I think of 

" Those lightsome footed maids, 
The Oread?, that frequent the lifted mountains." 

There is something in the quiet grandeur of the 
everlasting hills, that rises above the classic into the 
holy. 

Their presence could never quite reconcile me to 
the absence of the sea. My soul always yearns for 
that great type of power and freedom ; its ever-re- 
curring tides chained by the law of Necessity, its 
mighty and restless waves fighting with the strength 
and energy of Free Will. The fierce old conflict 
that keeps our nature forever striving and forever 
bound ; forever one hand winged and the other 
chained. 

But the mountains remind ns of no such battles. 
They raise us to the region where necessity and will 
are one. Calmly they breathe into ns the religious 
sentiment, and we receive it in unconscious quietude. 
Like Wordsworth's shepherd; who 

" Had early learned 
To reverence the volume which displays 
The mystery, the life which cannot die ; 
But in the mountains did \vq feel his faith. 



244 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

There did he see the writing. All things there 
Breathed immortality, revolving life, 
There littleness was not: the least things 
Seemed infinite.'' 

Filled with snch emotions, I greet the mountains 
with reverent love, when I enter Massachusetts from 
the west, and see them rising up all round the hori- 
zon, in undulating lines, as if left there by retreating 
waves. At every turn of the road, they tower before 
you veiled in the blue mist of distance. Look which 
way you will, you "cannot get shut of them," as 
New-Yorkers say. In this respect they have often 
reminded me of remarkably clear visions of inward 
light, guiding me in my spiritual pilgrimage, through 
perilous seasons of doubt and conflict ; so high above 
my own unaided intellectual perceptions, that they 
served not merely as a candle for the present mo- 
ment, but remain like brilliant beacon-lights over 
the wide waters of the future. 

How the blue hill-tops kiss the skies ! 

Far as the eye can see. 
Rich wooded undulations rise, 

And mountains look on me. 

Under the broad sun's mellow light. 

Gilding each shrub and tree, 
How calmly, beautifully bright. 

The mountains look on me. 

Rising above the vapory cloud, 

In outline boldly free. 
Serene when storms are shrieking loud. 

The mountains look on me. 

Their sinuous wave-like form seems cast 

From a subsiding sea ; 
Of quiet, after tempests past, 

The mountains speak to me. 

Thus they of states sublimely high 
A type must surely be; — 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 245 

Of close communion with the sky 
The mountains speak to me. 

And in the scenery of my mind, 

Rising from memory's sea, 
Such holy states stand well-defined, 

And ever look on me. 

Upon such heights, in deep repose 

I 've watched with bended knee ; 
Transfigured forms around me rose, 

And still they look on me. 

Those memories serenely high, 

My soul can never flee ; 
Therefore of converse M'ith the sky 

The mountains speak to me. — 

With the remembrance of Mount Holyoke, came 
the twenty-two spires seen from its summit; and 
they reminded me of the following paragraph from a 
Northampton newspaper, which did not seem to me 
very much like mountain preaching: -'There is no 
one thing which helps to establish a man's character 
and standing in sociehj^ more than a steady attend- 
ance at church, and a proper regard for the first day 
of the week. Go to church ! If you are a young 
man, just entering upon business, it will establish your 
credit. What capitalist loould not sooner' trust a be- 
ginner^ who, instead of dissipating his time, his 
cliaracter, and his money, in dissolute company, at- 
tended to his business on week-days, and on the 
Sabbath appeared in the house of God]" This 
recommendation of religion for the sake of bank- 
stock, made me think of the interesting newspaper, 
published by inmates of the Insane Asylum, in Ver- 
mont. • One of the writers tells the story of an old 
aunt of his, who loudly praised a rich man, for 
building a great brick meeting house. " Heaven 
prospered him in the undertaking," said she; "he 
has sold out; the underground part for victualing 
21* 



246 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

cellars, the "basement story for grocery shops; and 
after selling the pews, he has nearly fifteen hundred 
dollars more than the whole cost him; and next 
week, it is to be dedicated to the Lord." 

" Now, we crazy ones think that churches should 
be built by benevolent and pious individuals, and 
then unreservedly dedicated to God, and opened to 
all who have a desire to worship in them. This 
building your churches like splendid palaces, making 
the pews the individual property of those who are 
able to buy them, and turning the button against all 
who are not owners, drives from those houses the 
poor, to whom the gospel was first preached freely, 
and for whose comfort and consolation it was em- 
pfiatically sent." 

This is not crazy reasoning, though pointed against 
a very common manifestation of the spirit of trade 
among us. No branch of business is more respecta- 
ble than these profitable investments in the name of 
the Lord. But those who engage in them are little 
aware how rapidly they tend to decrease popular 
reverence for the public institutions of religion. 

The exhortation to go to church for the sake of 
being trusted by capitalists, is a growth from the 
same slock. It reveals a wide contrast between the 
present times and the old Puritan days of spontane- 
ous zeal, when people frequently walked ten or fif- 
teen miles to attend a place of worship. Good old 
President Edwards and his contemporaries would 
hardly know where they were in an age like this. 
He was a fine sample, in manners and character, of a 
class that exists no longer among us; a clergyman 
of the olden time, when they walked on the earth as 
the vicegerents of God. His father was such a 
stickler for clerical dignity, that he was in tbe habit 
of making his common parochial visits in black gown 
and bands, which are now so generally disused, even 
on state occasions. The son retained the efiect of 
these early lessons through life. He conceived his 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 247 

Station worthy of so much respect, that his own 
children were in the habit of rising, in token of rev- 
erence, whenever he entered the family sitting-room. 

The experience of a clergyman of my acquaintance 
indicates what changes have since passed over soci- 
ety. He called on one of his parishioners, whose mad 
little urchin of a son amused himself, unreproved, 
during the whole visit, with trying to throw marbles 
at the minister's spectacles, so as to hit the glasses. 
Alas for President Edwards, and other sincere ex- 
clusives of that day, if they should re-appear in the 
midst of times like these. Miss Sedgwick says very 
truly, "The old divmes preached equality in Heaven^ 
but little thought it was the kingdom to come on 
earth. They were the electric chain, unconscious 
of the celestial fire they transmitted. Little would 
they have brooked these days of unquestioned equal- 
ity oi rights, of anti-monopolies, of free publishing, 
and freer thinking." 

From their conservatism, Ave now rush so wildly 
to the other extreme, that reverential souls are fright- 
ened, and take shelter in the Catholic cathedral, or 
behind the altars of Puseyism. But other worship- 
ping souls, who have no sympathy with the mad off- 
whirl of ultra reform, remain quietly trustful; for 
through all the dust, they see plainly that God still 
governs the world. They are calm in the conviction 
that changes cannot come sooner than they are need- 
ed. As Carlyle wisely says, "The old skin never 
drops off, till a new one is formed under it." 



248 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



LETTER XXVIII. 

November 20, 1844. 

If you wish to see a coramercial age in its ultimate 
results, come and observe life in New- York. In one 
place, you will meet walking advertisements, in the 
form of men and boys, perambulating the thorough- 
fares, hour after hour, with placards printed in large 
letters, mounted on poles. Turn down another street, 
and you will encounter a huge wagon, its white cloth 
cover stamped with advertisements in mammoth 
type. In another place, a black man, with red coat, 
cocked hat, breeches, and buckled shoes, stands at the 
door of a bazaar, like a sign post, to attract attention. 
In the newspapers, ingenuity exhausts its resources 
in every variety of advertisements. These articles 
are in such demand, that the writing of them is a 
profession by itself, sufficiently profitable to induce 
men to devote their time to it, for a living. The pen 
employed by Dr. Gouraud, the vender of cosmetics, 
is peculiarly distinguished in this branch of litera- 
ture; as you may judge from the following quota- 
tions : 

A DIALOGUE. 

'^ Why, bless my soul ! Mrs. C , you are look- 
ing more charming than ever, this morning. Surely, 
the Graces must have taken you under their special 
protection ! But tell me, dear Anne, the secret, (for 
secret I know there must be,) by which you manage 
to keep your skin so white, your cheeks and lips so 
rosy, and your hair so black and glossy." 

Such was the string of queries put to the beautiful 

Mrs. C by the fashionable Mrs. F , (whose 

charms, by the way, were rapidly on the wane,) as 
they casually met at the entrance to Stewart's. 

" Well, my dear Mrs. F ," was the 7iaive reply, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 249 

*'my secret^ as you term it, was first imparted to me 
through the public newspapers : I have no hesitation, 
therefore, in imparting it to you, in confidence. To 
Dr. Gouraud alone am I indebted for the secret which 
permits me to bid defiance to the ravages of time. 
The constant use of his Italian Medicated Soap, and 
Spanish Lily White, has given to my skin its alabas- 
ter purity and clearness; his Liquid Rouge alone it 
is that has imparted to my cheek its roseate flush, 
aud to my lips its ruby red ; his Poudre Subtile 
speedily removed the unsightly moustache from my 
upper lip ; while one application of his Grecian Hair 
Dye to my grey hair and eye-brows, changed them 
to their present glossy jet ! And now you know my 
secret, go and do likewise." 

'^ SINGULAR SCRAP FROM SACRED HISTORY." 

'• Solomon, it is well known, was celebrated for his 
wisdom. But it is not so generally known that he 
invented a powder, highly beautifying to the Queen 
of Sheba. Such, however, is the fact, according to 
Mahometan commentaries. With Solomon the secret 
of the preparation died ; but now, singular as it may 
appear, after the lapse of so many centuries, it has 
been discovered by Dr. Gouraud, whose Poudre Sub- 
tile will efl'eciually remove every appearance of 
beard from the lips." 

If the following are not from the same gifted pen, 
there must be rival talent abroad in the same line : 

"A SORROWFUL STORY OF REAL LIFE." 

"Haven't you seen him in Broadway, with the 
long, delicious, silky hair, that waved as the wind 
blew, and the Bond and Bleecker street ladies longed 
to revel in the jetty clusters with their snowy forked 
fingers ? Did you ever hear that young man's story ? 
Well, it is a love tale. Poor fellow! the blasted hope 
of a rich Boston family ! I will not give you the 



250 LETTERS FROM NEV*r-YORK. 

particulars, 'tis too sorrowful. Suffice it to say, that 
at times his mind wanders. Do you know what 
gives such a particular charm to him that was once 
the ' glass of fashion and the mould of form T — 
Jones' Coral Hair Restorative, and Jones' Italian 
Chemical Soap." 

" SINGULAR AFFAIR AT THE PARK THEATRE." 

''In one of the boxes was last night seated a female, 
with a face in which generous nature seemed to have 
concentrated all that can be conceived of female 
grace, loveliness and beauty ; the delicate tinted 
cheek — white, yet rosy red — the white, long, chiselled 
neck : the high, clear, spotless alabaster forehead ; the 
dark, auburn, golden tresses, and the silken eye-lash, 
formed a singular and glorious halo of beauty. In 
an opposite box sat a fashionable family, father, 
mother, daughter, and two sons; the two latter were 
looking at the lovely creature opposite. — It is not her, 
said one to the other; I know she was dreadfully 
burned. Some 14 months ago. Miss B. was fright- 
fully burned by a steamboat accident on the Missis- 
sippi. She did certainly recover, but alas, disfigured 
for life — her face in seams of fiery red shrivels of 
flesh ; her neck in patches of contracted skin ; her 
eye-brows, lashes and hair all burned off. That 
lovely creature in that box is the same Miss B. She 
has for the last few months used Jones' beautifying 
Italian Chemical Soap on her face and skin, Jones' 
Coral Hair restorative on her head and eye-brows, 
and she is thus restored to blooming grace and 
beauty." 

" OH, MY BACK, I CAN SCARCELY WALK, IT RUTS INIE IN 
SUCH PAIN." 

'' Such was the expression of a gentleman in Dr. 
Sherman's store, a day or two since. He had taken 
a severe cold, and could not stand erect. He pur- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 251 

chased one of the Doctor's celebrated Poor Man's 
Plasters, applied it to the back, and in twenty-four 
hours' time was perfectly relieved from his suffering." 

^'A POEM: ADDRESSED TO MESSRS. PEASE AND SON," 

" And dedicated to the thousands that have been re- 
lieved by their invaluable Compound Hoarhound 
Candy. 

" See where the victim of Consumption sighs — 
With hectic cheeks and spirit blazing eyes — 
Her frame all wasted by disease and pills 
From quacks received, in vain to cure her ills. 
Now look again ! as buoyant as the breeze, 
Behold her bounding under yonder trees ! 
What miracle is this ? What ! she, wore away 
Like a lone sunbeam at the close of day, 
Thus dance along ! Yes ; Pease has kindly brought 
The Candy here, and thus the magic wrought. 

Mark the fond, doting mother rapt and wild, 
Leaning above the cradle of her child ! 
Why this ecstatic bliss at midnight hour ? 
Her child is saved by Pease's potent power !" 

"END OF THE WORLD !— OCTOBER 22,. 1844." 

'' An extra sheet, just published, and for sale at the 
Office of the New- York Sun, containing a large and 
splendid Engraving, one foot square, graphically re- 
presenting the final end and destruction of the world, 
the appearance of the Bridegroom, and the ascension 
of the Holy. It also contains brother miller's last 
letter; written Oct. 6th, giving at length his reasons 
for fixing the 10th day of the 7th month, (meaning 
22d of October 1844,) for the Final Destruction of 
the World. It also contains a long article from the 
last number of the Millerite Paper, published at 
Boston, and the final farewell of the Editor of that 
paper." 



252 LETTERS FR03I NEW-YORK. 

" CHRISTIANS AND JEWS, CATHOLICS AND PROTESTANTS, 
MORMONS AND INFIDELS, 

Have all met on one common ground, and on one 
subject at least, have become so united, as to give 
reason to believe that the time is near at hand, when 
watchmen in Zion shall see eye to eye : viz : they all 
admit that TICE & CO., No. 9 Bowery, will sell a 
beautiful and durable Hat, made in the most fash- 
ionable style, for a less price than any other estab- 
lishment in the city of Gotham." 

Near the Park is stationed a man, who spends his 
life repeating, " Four cents ! any article on this board 
for four cents ! Four cents ! Only four cents I" Think 
of an immortal soul making its advent into the 
hody, for a vocation like this ! If he could live with- 
out food, and be wound up, like a barrel organ, it 
would be a decided improvement. 

Another man, as universally known, perhaps, as 
any person in the city, may often be seen mounted 
on a block in the vicinity of Wall-Street., proclaim- 
ing, all day long, the wonderful virtues of Hillman 
and Smith's razor straps. His extempore orations 
are odd specimens of eloquence. The other day, 
pausing a moment to listen, I heard him address 
the crowd thus: "Now, my friends, let me advise 
you to buy one of these here strops. You need'nt 
think I stands here in the cold, by the hour together, 
from selfish reasons. No such thing. My profits is 
very small. The best part of my pay is the grati- 
tude I know men must feel toward me, as soon as 
they try this very superior strop. I am willing to 
stand here, day after day, jest to keep my fellow- 
beings from hurting themselves, and their wives and 
children from crying at sight of their bleeding faces, 
all for want of a good razor strop. AVhen I think of 
fathers of families being obliged to whet their razors 
on a bad strop, and the cross humour it puts 'em in, 
and the unhappy consequences to their wives and 
children, I feel as if I was a benefactor to the public, 



LETTERS rr. 031 NEW-YORK. 253 

in being able to offer them such a strop as this here. 
I've known men that have made themselves misera- 
ble, and made their families miserable, for years and 
years; and they didn't none on 'em know what was 
tlie matter. Their wives and children thought it 
was a nervous disease, or a wicked heart ; but it was 
all owing to a bad razor strop. The world Avill 
thank me for bringing before it such a strop as this 
here. In my estimation, it is better calculated to 
bring comfort to yourself, and joy in the bosom of 
your family, than anything else I knows of It will 
drive bad temper and heart-burnings from the family 
circle, and instead of gall and bitterness, you will 
have honey and sugar: and all owing to this very 
superior strop, which I offers for two shillings.'* 

It is as amusing as a comedy, to observe the crowd 
of men and boys, that always gather round this 
street orator. Some are in a perfect roar of laughter, 
some looking on with a quiet expression of sly wag- 
gery, and some hav^e their eyebrows arched in amaze- 
ment, as if they could not rightly make out whether 
he and his razor straps did indeed drop down from 
the beneficent heavens, in mercy to a suffering world, 
or whether he was reeling off his long speeches mere- 
ly for fun. 

He himself never smiles. He repeats his story 
with endless variations, in the most earnest and 
solemn manner, as if he really considered himself a 
disinterested agent, sent on a philanthropic mission 
to mankind. This imperturbable seriousness, and 
the fact that the article he sells is generally consider- 
ed worth the price he asks, secures him respectful 
treatment: but there is no end to the droll responses 
he receives from the passing populace. Report says 
that he has accumulated $7000 by his itinerant elo- 
quence; and in addition to this, the proprietor in 
Troy, has taken him into partnership, as a reward 
for the fame he has conferred on his articles of mer- 
chandize. He is likewise an efficient Temperance 
22 



'254 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

lecturer, and has equal knack at making people sign 
the pledge, or buy a razor strap. 

After listening to his discourse, and hearing his 
history, I suggested to my companion that Luck and 
Knack would form a good subject for a facetious 
lecture. Like most individuals not distinguished for 
money-making knack, I professed more faith in luck; 
and asserted that it was the more dignified of the 
two, being something transcendental, something al- 
together above and beyond us. In proof whereof, I 
quoted Emerson's remark, " We only row, we are 
steered by fate." My companion said he could turn 
a boat round from the point to which it was steered, 
by a single oar skilfully used. I admitted this ought 
to settle the relative superiority of knack and luck. 
Still I had great respect for luck; for it was uncon- 
scious, and therefore great; whereas knack was per- 
petually conscious of striving for an end. Besides, 
the two questions merged in one; for it was great 
luck to have knack. Luck was necessity, and knack 
free will; and who did not know that free will Avas 
always bound round by necessity? In the same 
jocose vein, we imagined pictures of knack and luck. 
I proposed a shower of pudditigs, one of them falling 
into Luck's laughing mouth. My friend would have 
Knack represented as having built a channel from 
the top of his house, to conduct the puddings into his 
pan. 

But, to return whence I started, this money-making 
rage in New- York is really inconvenient, as well as 
comic. Never did I see the system of catching half 
cenis in change managed with such universal adroit-" 
ness. The wear and tear of purse, to those who do 
not look out for the half cents, must exceed the large 
amount of gold said to be annually lost in Hindostan 
by the friction of bracelets and anklets. There is a 
wide distance indeed, between these days of rabid 
competition, and those sluggish old times, when the 
pedlar slowly wended his way over the hills, entev-? 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 255 

ing some picturesque abbey, with the golden sunset, 
and resting there on his way to the baron's castle, 
where he and his wares were sure to be welcomed 
as eagerly as the wandering minstrel with his harp 
and song. 

How marvellously has this element of commerce 
modified the character and fate of nations ! Where 
was there a prophet wise enough to foresee the 
changes it has already wrought? Property reigns 
so supreme in the social compact, that the growth of 
souls is trampled like a weed under its feet, and hu- 
man life is considered of far less importance. 

"Earth 
Groans underneath a weight of slavish toil, 
For the poor many, measured out by rules, 
Fetched with cupidity from heartless schools, 
That to an idol, falsely called 'the wealth 
Of nation?,' sacrifice a people's health. 
Body, and mind, and soul. A thirst so keen 
Is ever urging- on the vast machine 
Of sleepless labour, mid whose dizzy wheels, 
The power least prized is that which thinks and feels." 

This restless whirlpool of ever-striving selfishness is 
thus powerfully described by Hugh Doherty : " The 
crazy multitude of grown-up children move in their 
sphere like animalculoe in stagnant water, seeking 
only satisfaction for acute voracity, without being 
conscious of the monstrous fact, that they are feeding 
on each other's misery." 

But commerce, with all its evils, is gradually 
helping the world onward to a higher and better 
state. It is bringing the nations into companionship, 
and it has already taught kings and diplomatists 
that war is a losing game, even to the conqueror. 

Thus is self-love the root of all social changes. It 
is the fundamental basis of human life, as the mineral 
kingdom is the basis of nature's organized forms. 
Whether the love of self is dominant, or whether it 



256 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

be subordinated to the love of others, it is always 
the root of action. It is an expressive coincidence, 
that an age in which the moral sense of mankind 
has been earnestly at work to discover the proper 
place of self-love, and its harmonious relation to the 
good of others, as an improved basis to society, is 
likewise the age when musicians have made pro- 
gressive discoveries concerning the laws of thorough- 
bass, or fundamental harmony. If this fact has the 
significance, of which I think I discern some faint 
gleams, Beethoven indicated a deeper truth than he 
was probably conscious of, when he said he would 
allow no man to discuss religion or thorough-bass in 
his presence. 

A theory of fundamental harmony was founded on 
the fact that when a string is made to vibrate, " there 
is always heard, beside the principal sound, two 
other feebler sounds, one of which is the twelfth, 
and the other the seventeenth, of the First; that is 
to say, the octave of the Fifth, and the double octave 
of the Third." So it would seem that each simple 
tone contains in itself harmony. This is beautifully 
illustrated by colours. Red, Yellow, and Blue are 
the three primitive colours. If one of them be present, 
the introduction of the other two mingled makes a 
very agreeable chord to the eye; thus green with 
red, purple with yellow, and orange with deep blue. 
Moreover, one of the primitive colours brings with it 
the two others united. If you gaze on brilliant red, 
and suddenly turn your eye to a white surface, 
you see a faint shadow of green ; if you gaze on 
bright yellow, you will, by a similar process, see 
purple ; if on deep blue, you will see orange. This 
is not the reflection of the colour that gives tone to 
your eye, as the twelfth and the seventeenth are not 
an echo of the sound that gives tone to your ear. If 
I rightly understand, it is, in both cases, the presence 
of the other two, that compose the perfect chord. 

You are aware that Fourier builds his social 



LETTERS FKOJM NEW-YORK. 257 

structure according to the laws of music. He calls 

13 5 

FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, AND FAMILY, 

the perfect social chord. Musicians say that if the 
Third be flattened only half a tone, it carries the 
whole strain of music out of the bright and cheerful 
Major mode, into the mournful modulations of the 
Minor. What if lowering pure Love a semi-tone, 
perhaps into the region oi self-love, and building our 
social structure on such a basis, should be the cause 
of prevailing sadness in the tune of life? He will in- 
deed be the high priest of social harmony, that can 
teach us how to change the flattened semi-tone. 

I have again fallen into speculations, which may 
seem to you like the mere "shadow of a thread-like 
sound." I admit that the queer advertisements in 
New- York papers would seem very unlikely to lead 
thought into such channels. Yet, I assure you, I 
never go hunting after such analogies. They come 
tome, whether 1 will or no. Let me start from what 
point I may, an invisible air-line, like that which 
guides the bee to her cell, brings me into music. 
Perhaps it will remind you of the close of a collegi- 
ate theme — "May we all land at last in the great 
ocean of eternity." For assuredly, the attempt to 
follow spiritual significations of music to their end, 
is very similar in its results, to the landing one would 
be likely to find in the vast interminable ocean. 

But you will pardon my vagaries, because you 
know very well that they are the unaftected utterance 
of my mood of mind. In good truth, I can seldom 
write a letter without making myself liable to the Va- 
grant Act. A witty Englishman once said to me, 
"Madam, your countrymen dance as if they did it by 
act of the legislature." My pen has no such gift. It 
paces or whirls, bounds or waltzes, steps in the slow 
minuet, or capers in the fantastic fandango, accord- 
ing to the tune within. 



22* 



258 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 



LETTER XXIX. 



December 8, 1844, 

A Society has lately been organized here, for the 
Reform of Prisons and their Inmates. Their first 
object is to introduce into our prisons such a mode 
of disciphne as is best calculated to reform criminals, 
by stimulating and encouraging what remains of 
good within them, while they are at the same time 
kept under strict regulations, and guided by a firm 
hand. Their next object is to render discharged con- 
victs such assistance as will be most likely to guide 
them into the paths of sober and successful industry. 

John W. Edmonds, President of the Board of In- 
spectors at Sing Sing Prison, pleaded for the benevo- 
lent objects of the institution with real earnestness of 
heart ; and brought forward abundant statistics, care- 
fully prepared, to show the need of such an associa- 
tion, and to prove that crime always diminishes in 
proportion to the amelioration of the laws. He urged 
the alarming fact that from 200 to 250 convicts a 
year, from Sing Sing, were returned upon society, 
nearly without money, without friends, (except among 
the vicious) without character, and without employ- 
ment. Of these, more than half belong to the cities 
of New- York and Brooklyn ; without taking into ac- 
count the numbers that pass through, and often stop 
for a season, on their way to other destinations. 
Poor, unfriended, discouraged, and despised, in a 
state of hostility with the world, which often has in 
reality done them more grievous wrong than they 
have done the world, how terribly powerful must be 
the temptation to new crimes ! 

In answer to the common plea, that most of these 
wretched people were old offenders, hardened in vice, 
and not likely to be restored by Christian efforts, he 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 259 

Stated that of the 934 now in the prison, only 154 
had been in prison before; 599 of them, about two- 
thirds of the whole number, were under thirty years 
of age; 192 were under twenty-one years of age; 
and 27 were not seventeen years old, when they were 
sentenced. Of thirty-one now confirmed lunatics, 
twenty-two were so when they were committed. 

He said he had no faith whatever in the system of 
violence, which had so long prevailed in the world; 
the system of tormenting criminals into what was 
called good order, and of never appealing to any- 
thing better than the base sentiment of fear. He had 
seen enough, in his own experience, to convince him 
that, degraded as they were, they still had hearts 
that could be touched by kindness, consciences that 
might be aroused by appeals to reason, and aspira- 
tions for a better course of life, which often needed 
only the cheering voice of sympathy and hope, to be 
strengthened into permanent reformation. 

Of late, there has been a gradual amelioration of 
discipline at Sing Sing. Three thousand lashes, 
with a cat of six tails, used to be inflicted in the 
course of a month; now there are not as many hun- 
dreds; and the conviction is constantly growing 
stronger, that it will be wisest, as a mere matter of 
policy, to dispense with corporeal punishment alto- 
gether. This is somewhat gained in the course of 
the eighteen centuries, which have rolled away, 
through rivers of human blood, since Christ said, " If 
thy brother oftend thee, forgive him. I say unto 
thee not until seven times, but until seventy times 
.seven." If our religion is not practicable, honest men 
ought not to profess it. 

A very great change has taken place in the women's 
department of the prison ; under the firm but kind 
administration of Mrs. Farnham, and her colleagues, 
who do not discharge their arduous duties merely as 
a means of gaining a living, but who feel a sincere 
sympathy for the wretched beings intrusted to their 



260 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

care. The difference between their government and 
the old fashioned method, cannot perhaps be more 
concisely indicated than by the following anecdote : 
Two ministers in the Society of Friends travelled to- 
gether, and one was much more successful in his 
labours than the other. "How dost thou manage to 
take so much more hold of the hearts of the people, 
than I do7" said the least efficient preacher. "I can 
explain it in few words," replied the other : " I 
tell people that if they do right they shall not be 
whipped. Thou sayest that if they donH do right, 
they shall be Avhipped." 

In other words, the system now begun at Sing 
Sing is to punish as sparingly as possible, and to 
give cordial praise and increase of privileges, for ev- 
ery indication of improvement. The wisdom of such 
a course was suggested to my mind several years 
ago, by an intelligent, well educated woman, who 
had, by intemperance, become an inmate of the alms- 
house at South Boston. "Oh!" said she, "if they 
would only give us more encouragement and less 
driving; if they would grant increased privileges for 
doing well, instead of threatening punishment for 
doing wrong; 1 could perform my tasks with a cheer- 
full heart, if they would only say to me, ' Do your 
task quickly, and behave well, and you shall hear 
music one evening in the week, or you may have 
one day of the six to read entertaining books.' But 
instead of that, it always is, ' If your task is not done 
well, you will be punished.' Oh ! nobody, that has 
never tried it, knows how hard this makes work gooff." 

I thought of this woman when I read Barry Corn- 
wall's lines, called The Poor-House : 

" Enter and look ! In the high-walled yards 
Fierce men are pacing the barren ground 

Enter the long, bare chambers I Girls 

And women are sewing without a sound — ■ 

Sewing from morn till the dismal eve, 
And not a laugh or a song goes round. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 261 

" No communion — no kind thought, 

Dwells in the pauper's breast of care ; 
Nothing but pain in the grievous past — 

Nothing to come, but the black despair 
Of bread in prison, bereft of friends, 

Or hungry out in the open air !" 

Acting upon the principle to which I have alkided, 
the President of the inspectors at Sing Sing, last 
Fourth of July, sent each of the seventy-three 
women prisoners a beautiful boquet, with a note, 
asking them to receive the flowers as a testimonial 
of his approbation for their good conduct. When the 
matrons passed through the galleries, every woman 
came to the door of her cell, with the flowers in her 
hand, and earnest thanks, and the whispered "God 
bless you," met them at every step. Being after- 
ward assembled in the chapel, they brought their 
flowers ; and while the matron talked with them 
like a mother, about the necessity of forming habits 
of self-government, and of the effect of their present 
conduct on their fiiture prospects in life, the tears 
flowed plentifully, and convulsive sobs were audible. 
One of the matrons writes : 

" The eflect of this little experiment has been 
manifest in the more quiet and gentle movements of 
the prisoners, in their softened and subdued tones of 
voice, and in their ready and cheerful obedience. It 
has deepened my conviction that, however degraded 
by sin, or hardened by outrage and wrong, while 
Reason maintains its empire over the Mind, there is 
no heart so callous or obdurate, that the voice of 
Sympathy and Kindness may not reach it, or so de- 
based, as to give no response to the tones of Christian 
Love." 

On Thanksgiving day, one of the matrons, as a re- 
ward for the good behaviour of the prisoners, caused 
her piano to be removed to the chapel, 'and tunes 
of praise and worship were mingled with friendly 
exhortations. We, who live freely amid the fair 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

sights and sounds of our Father's creation, can hard- 
ly imagine how soothing and refreshing is the voice 
of music to the prisoner's weary and desolate soul. 
And then the kindness of bringing music and flowers 
to them! of off"ering to the outcast and degraded 
those graceful courtesies usually appropriated to the 
happy, the refined, and the beloved ! — this touched 
their inmost hearts, even more deeply than the bless- 
ed voice of music. They wept like children, and 
some of them said, "It does not seem as if we coidd 
ever want to do wrong again." 

Nor are repentant words their only proofs of grati- 
tude. Instead of riot, blasphemy, and obscenij;y, 
they are now distinguished for order, decorum and 
cheerful mdustry. The offences against prison dis- 
cipline, in that department, formerly averaged forty- 
seven a month ; they now average only seven. This 
favourable change is attributed mainly to friendly in- 
struction, and improved classification ; not classifica- 
tion according to crimes committed, but according to 
obedience, and indications of a sincere wish to re- 
form. One of the keepers told me that she now sel- 
dom had occasion to resort to anything harsher than 
to say, "It Avill give me great pain and trouble if you 
do not obey me. I am trying to do you good, and to 
make you as happy as circumstances permit. Sure- 
ly, then, you will not wish to give me pain." She 
said it was rare, indeed, that this simple and affec- 
tionate appeal was unavailing. Alas, for the wrongs 
that have been done to human hearts, under the 
mistaken idea of terrifying and tormenting sinners 
out of their sins. Satan never cast out Satan. We 
take back precisely what we give ; hardness for hard- 
ness, hatred for hatred, selfishness for selfishness, 
love for love. 

I am well aware that this will sound very sen- 
timental to many readers. Very likely some wag 
may jestingly describe these suggestions, as "a new 
transcendental mode of curing crime by music and 



LETTETiS FFvO:.! NEW-YORK. 263 

flowers." If so, lie is welcome to his mirth. For 
my own part, I cannot jest about the misery or the 
errors of any of my fellow-creatures. 

The doctrines of forgiveness and love, taught by 
Jesus, are not as men seem to suppose, mere beauti- 
ful sentimental theories, fit only for heaven: they 
are rational principles, which may, not only safely, 
but profitably be reduced to practice on earth. All 
divine principles, if suffered to flow out into the 
ultimates of life, would prove the wisest political 
economy. 

The assertion that society makes its own crimi- 
nals, interferes with the theological opinions of some. 
They argue that God leaves the will of man free, 
and therefore every individual is responsible entirely 
for his own sin. Whether the same action is equally 
a sin, in the sight of God, when committed by indi- 
viduals in totally difl"erent circumstances, I will not 
attempt to discuss. Such questions should reverently 
be left to Him who made the heart, and who alone 
can judge it. But I feel that if I were to commit a 
crime, with my education, and the social influences 
that prop my weakness in every direction, I should 
be a much worse sinner than a person guilty of the 
same deed, whose childhood had been passed among 
the lowest haunts of vice, and whose after years had 
been unvisited by outward influences to purify and 
refine. The degree of conviction resisted would be 
the measure of my sin. 

The simple fact is, human beings stand between 
two kinds of influences, the inward and the outward. 
The inward is the spirit of God, which strives with 
lis always. The outward is the influence of Educa- 
tion, Society, Government, &c. In a right state of 
things, these two would be in perfect harmony; but 
it is painfully obvious that they are now discordant. 
Society should stand to her poor in the relation of a 
parent, not of a master. 

People who are most unwilling to admit that ex- 



264 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

ternal circumstances have an important agency in 
producing crime, are nevertheless extremely careful 
to place their children under safe outward influences. 
So little do they trust their free will to the guidance 
of Providence, they often fear to have them attend 
schools, taught hy persons whose creeds they believe 
to be untrue. If governments took equally paternal 
care, if they would spend more money to prevent 
crime, they would need to expend less in punishing 
it. In proportion as Hamburg Redemption Institutes 
increase, prisons will diminish. The right of Society 
to punish, or restrain, implies the duty to prevent. 
When Bonaparte objected to a woman's talking 
politics, Madame de Stael shrewdly replied, "In a 
country where women are beheaded, it's very natural 
they should ask the reason why." And if the children 
of poor and ignorant men are branded, and ruined 
for life, by the operation of civil laws, it is reasonable 
that they should be early taught those moral obliga- 
tions on which laws are based. 

Few are aware how imperfectly most criminals 
understand the process by which they are condemn- 
ed, and how very far it is from impressing them as 
a moral lesson. A young girl of seventeen was con- 
demned to the State Prison for three years, on charge 
of being accomplice in a theft. Her trial occupied 
but one hour, and she had no counsel. The account 
she gave me of this brief legal performance, touched 
my heart most deeply. " They carried me into 
another room," said she, " and there were a great 
many strange faces; and one gentleman said some- 
thing to me, but I did not understand what he 
meant; and another gentleman talked a good deal. 
It seemed to be all against me. They did not ask me 
anything, and nobody said anything for me ; and 
then they told me I must go to Sing Sing for three 
years." Do half the criminals understand the pro- 
ceedings against them any better than this? That 
certain things are punished, they indeed know very 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 265 

well ; but this seems to them a mere arbitrary exer- 
cise of power, to be avoided by cmming ; for early 
education, and the social influences around them, 
have confounded the distinctions between right and 
wrong, 

I repeat, that Society is answerable for crime, be- 
cause it is so negligent of duty. And I would re- 
spectfully suggest to legislators, what probably will 
have more power to attract their attention, than any 
considerations of human brotherhood, viz. : that a 
practical adaptation of our civil institutions to Chris- 
tian principles would prove an immense saving of 
money to the State. The energy spent in committing 
crime, and in punishing crime, is a frightful waste 
of human labour. Society calculates its mechanical 
forces better than its moral. They do not observe, 
that " on the occasion of every great crime, a propor- 
tionally great force was in motion;" and they do not 
reflect how different would be the product of the so- 
cial sum, if that force had been wisely instead of un- 
wisely employed. Add to this, the alarming consid- 
eration that crime hardened by severity is continu- 
ally sent back upon society ; that society thrusts at it 
with a thousand spear points, and goads it to des- 
peration, to be again punished by a renewal of the 
hardening process. 

Inquiry into the causes of crime, and the means of 
prevention, cannot receive too much attention from 
the wise and good. " The soil of Vesuvius has been 
explored," says Schiller, "to discover the origin of 
its eruptions ; and why is less attention paid to a 
moral, than to a physical phenomenon? Why do 
we not equally regard the nature and situation of the 
things which surround a man, until the tinder within 
him takes fire ?" 

Poulmann, lately beheaded in Paris, for robbery 

and murder, when his head was under the axe, said : 

" I owe society a grudge, because it condemned me 

to the galleys when I was only seventee7i. After the 

23 



266 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

expiration of the term for which I was sentenced, 
there was still enough stuff left i]i me to make an 
honest man. But I was always pointed at as a lib- 
erated galley slave." 

In connection with this subject, I would most ur- 
gently entreat all who will listen to me, to be very 
cautious how they treat a first crime, in any person. 
I have known young girls of sixteen sent to Black- 
well's Island, for stealing property valued at twenty- 
five cents. Once there, seen by visitors in company 
with prostitutes and thieves, haunted by a continual 
sense of degradation, is their future course likely to 
be other than a downward one? To employers, who 
take such harsh measures with erring domestics, in- 
stead of friendly exhortation.and Christian interest in 
the welfare of a human soul, I always want to say, 
Ah, if she were thy own daughter, dependent on the 
kindness and forbearance of strangers, is it tJuis you 
would have them treat her? If she once had a 
mother, who watched her cradle tenderly, and folded 
her warmly to a loving heart, treat her gently for that 
mother's sake. If her childhood was unnurtured, 
and uncheered by the voice of love, then treat her 
7nore gently, for that very reason ; and remember the 
saying, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
the least of these, my brethren, ve have done it unto 
me." 

I would likewise entreat those who happen to 
know of some delinquency in a fellow-being, to keep 
the secret faithfully, so long as his life gives assurance 
of sincere amendment. A very young man, who is 
now in Sing Sing, when tried for his second offence, 
told a story at the bar, which was in substance as 
follows: " My first offence was committed more in 
thoughtlessness, than with deliberate wickedness. 
But 1 felt that I was to blame, and was willing to 
bear the penalty like a man. In prison, I formed 
the strongest resolutions to atone for my fault by a 
life of honest usefulness. When my time was out, I 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 267 

succeeded, after a good deal of difficulty, in obtain- 
tainiug employment. I did my best to gain the con- 
fidence of my employer, and succeeded. Every day 
.1 felt my manhood grow stronger. But at last a per- 
son came into the store, who eyed me keenly, and I 
turned pale under his gaze. He told my employer 
that he had seen me among the convicts at Smg 
Sing; and I was sternly dismissed from his service. 
I went to Philadelphia to seek for any honest em- 
ployment I could find ; but a man, who saw me 
there, told me if I did not quit the city in twenty- 
four hours, he would expose me. I came back dis- 
heartened to New-York. I had spent my last dollar. 
Christians would not give me a home ; gamblers and 
thieves would ; and here I am again on my way to 
Sing Sing." 

Isaac T. Hopper, agent of the benevolent associa- 
tion I have mentioned, related several highly inter- 
esting incidents, which occurred while he was one of 
the inspectors of the Philadelphia prison. 

He said that Mary Norris, a middle-aged woman, 
who had been frequently re-committed, on one occa- 
sion, begged him to intercede for her, that she might 
go out. "I am afraid thou wouldst come back again 



'' Yery likely ; I expect to be brought back soon," 
she answered, with stolid indiff'erence of maimer. 

" Then where will be the good of letting thee out?" 

"I should like to go out," she replied. ''It would 
seem good to feel free a little while, in the open air 
and the sunshine." 

''But if thou enjoys liberty so much, why do&t 
thou allow thyself to be brought back again?" [ 

" How can I help it? When I go out of prison, 
nobody will employ me. No respectable people will 
let me come into their houses. I must go to such 
friends as I have. If they steal, or commit other of- 
fences, I shall be taken up with them. Whether I 
am guilty or not, is of no consequence: nobody will 



268 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

believe me innocent. They will all say, 'She is an 
old convict. Send her back to prison. That is the 
best place for her. O, yes, I expect to come back 
soon. There is no use in my trying to do better." 

Much affected by her tone of utter hopelessness, 
Friend Hopper said, ''But if I could obtain steady 
employment for thee, where thou wouldst be treated 
kindly, and paid for thy services, wouldst thou really 
try to i3ehave well?" 

Her covmtenance brightened, and she eagerly re- 
plied, "Indeed, I would.' 

The kind-hearted inspector used his influence to 
procure her dismissal, and provided a place for her, 
as head nurse in a hospital for the poor. She re- 
mained there more than seventeen years, and dis- 
charged the duties of her situation so faithfully, that 
she gained the respect and confidence of all who 
knew her. 

Patrick McKever, a poor Irishman in Philadelphia, 
was many years ago sentenced to be hung for bur- 
glary. For some reason or other, he was reprieved 
at the foot of the gallows, and his sentence changed 
to ten years' imprisonment. He was a man of few 
words, and hope seemed almost dead within him; 
but when Friend Hopper, who became inspector 
during the latter part of his term, talked to him like 
a brother, his heart was evidently touched by the 
voice of kindness. After his release, he returned to 
his trade, and conducted in a very sober, exemplary 
manner. The inspector often met him, and spoke 
words of friendly encouragement. Things were go- 
ing on very satisfactorily, when a robbery was com- 
mitted in the neighbourhood, and Patrick was im- 
mediately arrested. His friend went to the Mayor, 
and inquired what proof there was that he commit- 
ted the robbery. "No proof; but he is an old con- 
vict, and that is enough to condemn him," was the 
answer. 

"Nay, it is not enough," replied Friend Hopper. 



LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 269 

*' He has suffered severely for the crime he did com- 
mit; and since he has shown the most sincere desire 
to reform, it never ought to be mentioned against him. 
I think I know his state of mind, and I will take the 
responsibihly of maintaining that he is not guihy. 
But to all his urgent representations, he received the 
answer, " He is an old convict; and that is enough." 

The poor fellow, hung his head and said, in tones 
of despair, " Well theUjl must make up my mmd to 
spend the remainder of my days in prison." 

"Thou wert not concerned in this robbery, wert 
thou 7" said Isaac, looking earnestly in his face. 

"Indeed, I was not. God be my witness, I want 
to lead an honest life, and be at peace with all men. 
But what good will that do? They will all say, He 
is an old convict, and that is enough." 

Friend Hopper told him he would stand by him. 
He did so ; and offered to be bail for his appearance. 
The gratitude of the poor fellow was overwhelming. 
He sobbed like a child. His innocence was after- 
ward proved, and to the day of his death, he con- 
tinued a virtuous and useful citizen. What would 
have been his fate, if no friend had appeared for 
him? If every human heart had refused to trust 
him? 

The venerable speaker told the story of two lads, 
one fifteen and the other seventeen, who had been 
induced by a bad father to swear falsely, to gratify 
his own revengeful feelings. They were detected, 
and sent to prison. When Friend Hopper saw them 
arrive at dusk, hand-cuffed and chained together, 
their youth and desolate appearance touched his 
compassionate feelings. " Be of good heart, my poor 
lads," said he ; " You can retrieve this one false step, 
if you will but try. You may make useful and res- 
pectable men yet." He took care to place them away 
from the contagion of those more hardened in vice, 
and from time to time, he praised their good conduct, 
and spoke to them encouragingly of the future. 
23=^ 



270 LETTiTRS FROM NEW- YORK. 

After a while, he proposed to the Board of Inspect- 
ors to recommend them to the Gov^ernor for pardon. 
He met with some opposition, but his arguments 
finally prevailed, and he and another gentleman 
were appointed to wait on the Governor. His re- 
quest was granted, after considerable hesitation, and 
only on condition that worthy men could be found, 
who would take them as apprentices. Friend Hop- 
per took the responsibility, and succeeded in binding 
one of them to a respectable turner, and the other to 
a carpenter. After giving them much good advice, 
he told them to come to him whenever they were in 
difficulty, and to consider him a father. For a long 
time, they were in the habit of spending all their 
leisure evenings with him, and were well pleased to 
listen to the reading of instructive books. These 
brothers became respectable and thriving mechanics, 
married worthy women, and brought up their fami- 
lies in the paths of sobriety and usefulness. In the 
days of their prosperity. Friend Hopper introduced 
them to the Governor, as tlie lads he had been so 
much afraid to pardon. The magistrate took them 
by the hand, most cordially, and thanked them for 
the great public good they had done by their excel- 
lent example. 

Out of as many as fifty similar cases, in which he 
had been interested, Friend Hopper said he recollect- 
ed but two, that had resulted unfavourably. 

The dungeon and the scourge were formerly con- 
sidered the only effectual way of restraining maniacs, 
but experience has proved that love is the best con- 
trolling power. When Pinel, the humane French 
ph^^sician, proposed to try this experiment in the 
bedlam at Bicetre, many supposed his life would fall 
a sacrifice. But he walked fearlessly into dungeons 
where raving maniacs had been chained, some ten 
years, some forty years; and with gentle words, he 
convinced them that they were free to go out into the 
sunshine and open air, if they would allow him to 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 271 

remove their chains and put on strait waistcoats. At 
first, they did not beUeve it, because they had been 
so often deceived. When they found it true, nothing 
could equal their gratitude and joy. They obeyed 
their dehverer with the utmost dociUty, and finally 
became very valuable assistants in the management 
of the establishment. 

Dorothea L. Dix, our American Mrs. Fry, the God- 
appointed missionary to prisons and alms-houses, told 
me that experience had more than confirmed her faith 
m the power of kindness, over the insane and vicious. 

Among the hundreds of crazy people, with Avhom 
her sacred mission has brought her into companion- 
ship, she has not found one individual, however 
fierce and turbulent, that could not be calmed by 
Scripture and prayer, uttered in low and gentle tones. 
The power of the religious sentiment over these shat- 
tered souls seems perfectly miraculous. The worship 
of a quiet, loving heart, afi"ects them like a voice from 
heaven. Tearing and rending, ^^elling and stamping, 
singing and groaning, gradually subside into silence, 
and they fall on their knees, or gaze upward with 
clasped hands, as if they saw through the opening 
darkness a golden gleam from their Father's throne 
of love. 

On one occasion, this missionary of mercy was 
earnestly cautioned not to approach a raving maniac. 
He yelled frightfully, day and night, rent his gar- 
ment, plucked out his hairs, and was so violent, that 
it was supposed he would murder any one who ven- 
tured within his reach. Miss Dix seated herself at 
a little distance, and, without appearing to notice 
him, began to read, with serene countenance and 
gentle voice, certain passages of Scripture, filled with 
the spirit of tenderness. His shouts gradually sub- 
sided, until at last he became perfectly still. When 
she paused, he said meekly, "Read me some more; 
it does me good." And when, after a prolonged sea- 
son of worship, she said; "I must go away now;' 



272 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

he eagerly replied, " No, you cannot go. God sent 
you to me; and you must not go." By kind words, 
and a promise to come again, she finally obtained 
permission to depart. " Give me your hand," said 
he. She gave it, and smiled upon him. The wild 
expression of his haggard countenance softened to 
tearfulness, as he said, " You treat me right. God 
sent you." 

On another occasion, she had been leading some 
twenty or thirty maniacs into worship, and seeing 
them all quiet as lambs gathered into the Shepherd's 
fold, she prepared to go forth to other duties. In 
leaving the room, she passed an insane young man, 
with whom she had had several interviews. He 
stood with hands clasped, and a countenance of the 
deepest reverence. With a friendly smile, she said, 
" Henry, are you well to-day?" " Hush ! — hush !" 
replied he, sinking his voice to a whisper, and gazing 
earnestly on the space around her, " Hush ! — there 
are angels with you ! They have given you their 



voice 



I" 



But let not the formalist suppose that he can work 
such miracles as these, in the professed name of 
Jesus. Yain is the Scripture or the prayer, repeated 
by rote. They must be tlie meek utterance of a 
heart overflowing with love; for to such only do the 
angels "lend their voice." 



LETTER XXX. 

December 24, 1844, 

You ask me for my impressions of Ole Bui's Niag- 
ara. It is like asking an ^olian harp to tell what 
the great organ of Freyburg does. But since you 
are pleased to say that you value my impressions, 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 273 

because they are always my own, and not another 
person's; because they are spontaneous, disinterest- 
ed, and genuine; I will give you the tones as they 
breathed through my soul, without anxiety to have 
them pass for more than they are worth. 

I did not know what the composer intended to 
express. I would have avoided knowing if the in- 
formation had been offered; for I wished to hear 
what the music itself would say to me. And thus 
it spoke : The serenely beautiful opening told of a 
soul going forth peacefully into the calm bright at- 
mosphere. It passes along, listening to the half- 
audible, many-voiced murmurings of the summer 
woods. Gradually, tremulous vibrations fill tho air, 
as of a huge cauldron seething in the distance. The 
echoing sounds rise and swell, and finally roar and 
thunder. In the midst of this, stands the soul, striv- 
ing to utter its feelings. 

*' Like to a mighty heart the music seems, 
That yearns with melodies it cannot speak," 

It wanders away from the cataract, and again and 
again returns within sound of its mighty echoes. 
Then calmly, reverentially, it passes away, listening 
to the receding chorus of Nature's tremendous drums 
and trombones; musing solemnly as it goes, on that 
vast sheet of waters, rolling now as it has rolled, 
''long, long time ago." 

Grand as I thought Niagara when I first heard it, 
it opened upon me with increasing beauty when I 
heard it repeated. I then observed many exquisite 
and graceful touches, which were lost in the magni- 
tude of the first impression. The multitudinous^ 
sounds are bewildering in their rich variety. 

" The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep." 

'• The whispering air 
Sends inspiration from the rocky heights, 
And dark recesses of the caverned rocks : 



274 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

The little rills, and waters numberlesfi, 
Blend their notes with the loud streams." 

There is the pattering of water-drops, gurgUngs, 
twitterings, and little gushes of song. 

" The leaves in myriads jump and spring, 
As if with pipes and music rare, 
Some Robin Goodfellow were there, 
And all the leaves in festive glee, 
Were dancing to the minstrelsy." 

It reminded me of a sentence in the Noctes Am- 
brosianse, beautifully descriptive of its prevailing 
character: "It keeps up a bonnie wild musical 
sough, like that o' swarming bees, spring-startled 
birds, and the voices of a hundred streams, some 
wimpling awa' ower the Elysian meadows, and 
ithers roaring at a distance frae the clefts." 

The sublime waterfall is ever present, with its 
echoes ; but present in a calm contemplative soul. 
One of the most poetic minds I know, after listening 
to this music, said to me, "The first time I saw 
Niagara, I came upon it through the woods, in the 
clear sunlight of a summer's morning; and these 
tones are a perfect transcript of my emotions." In 
truth, it seems to me a perfect disembodied poem : a 
most beautiful mingling of natural sounds with the 
reflex of their impressions on a refined and romantic 
mind. This serene grandeur, this pervading beauty, 
which softens all the greatness, gave the composition 
its greatest charm, to those who love poetic expres- 
sion in music; but it renders it less captivating to 
the public in general, than they had anticipated. 
Had it been called a Pastorale composed within 
hearing of Niagara, their preconceived ideas would 
have been more in accordance with its calm bright 
majesty. 

The Solitude of the Prairie I have lately heard 
for the first time ; and never did music so move the 
inmost depths of my soul. Its spiritual expression 



LETTEKS FROM NEW-YORK. 2^5 

breathes through heavenly melodies. With a voice 
earnest and plaintive as the nightingale, it spoke to 
me of inward conflict; of the soul going forth into 
solitude, alone and sad. The infinite stretches itself 
out, in darkness and storm. Through the fierce 
tempestuous struggle, it passes alone, alone, as the 
soul must ever go through all its sternest conflicts. 
Then comes self-renunciation, humihty and peace. 
And thus does the exquisitely beautiful music of this 
Prairie Solitude lay the soul lovingly into its rest. 

A friend acquainted with prairie scenery, said it 
brought vividly before her, those "dream-like, bee- 
sung, murmuring, and musical plains." 

Many, who have hitherto been moderate in their 
enthusiasm about Ole Bui, recognize in these new 
compositions more genius than they supposed him to 
possess. Tastefully intertwined Fantasias, or those 
graceful musical garlands. Rondos, might be sup- 
posed to indicate merely a pleasing degree of talent 
and skill. But those individuals must be hard to 
convince, who do not recognize the presence of gen- 
uine inspiration, in the earnest tenderness of the 
Mother's Prayer, that sounds as if it were composed 
at midnight, alone with the moon ; in the mad, wild 
life of the Tarantella; in the fiery, spirit stirring elo- 
quence of the Polacca Guerriera, composed at Naples, 
in view of Vesuvius flaming through the darkness; 
in the deep spiritual melody of the Prairie Solitude; 
and in the serene majesty of Niagara. 

If I appear to speak with too much decision, it is 
simply because my own impressions are distinct and 
strong, and I habitually utter them, alike without 
disguise, and without pretension. In the presence 
of mere skill, I know not what to say. It may please 
me somewhat ; but whether it is more or less excel- 
lent than some other thhig, I cannot tell. But bring 
me into the presence of genius, and I know it by 
rapid intuition, as quick as I know a sunbeam. I 



276 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

cannot tell how I know it. I simply say, This is 
genius ; as 1 say, This is a sunbeam. 

It is an old dispute, that between genius and criti- 
cism, and probably will never be settled ; for it is one 
of the manifold forms of conservatism and innovation. 
In all departments of life, genius is on the side of 
progress, and learning on the side of established or- 
der. Genius comes a Prophet from the future, to 
guide the age onward. Learning, the Lawgiver, 
strives to hold it back upon the past. But the Pro- 
phet always revolutionizes the laws; for thereunto 
was he sent. Under his powerful hand, the limita- 
tions gradually yield and flow, as metals melt into 
new forms at the touch of fire. 

This is as true of music, as of everything else. Its 
rules have been constantly changing. What is es- 
tablished law now, was unknown, or shocking, a 
hundred years ago. Every great genius that has 
appeared in the art, has been accused of violating 
the rules. The biographer of Haydn says: "The 
charming little thoughts of the young musician, the 
warmth of his style, the liberties which he sometimes 
allowed himself, called forth against him all the in- 
vectiv^e of the musical monastery. They reproached 
him with errors of counterpoint, heretical modula- 
tions, and movements too daring. His introduction of 
prestissimo made all the critics of Vienna shudder," 
An English nobleman once begged him to explain 
the reason of certain modulations and arrangements 
in one of his quartetts. "I did so because it has a 
good efl'ect," replied the composer. " But I can 
prove to you that it is altogether contrary to the 
rules," said the nobleman. "Very well," said Haydn, 
" arrange it in your own way, hear both played, and 
tell me which you like the best." But how can 
your way be the best, since it is contrary to the 
rules?" urged the nobleman. "Because it is the 
most agreeable," replied Haydn; and the critic went 
away unconvinced. 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 277 

Beethoven was constantly accused of violating the 
rules. In one of his compositions, various things 
were pointed out to him as deviations from the laws, 
expressly forbidden by masters of the art. " They 
forbid them, do they?" said Beethoven. "Very 
well, /allow them." 

Do not understand me as speaking scornfully of 
knowledge and critical skill. Only presumptuous, 
self-conceited ignorance does this. On the contrary, 
1 labour with earnest industry, to acquire more and 
more knowledge of rules, in all the forms of art. But, 
in all the higher and more spiritual manifestations, I 
recognize laws only as temporary and fluxional 
records of the progressive advancement of the soul. 
I do not deny the usefulness of criticism ; but genius 
forever remains the master, and criticism the servant. 

Whether critics will consider Niagara as abound- 
ing with faults, when they examine into its construc- 
tion, I cannot conjecture. It is their business to ana- 
lyze genius, and the mischief is, they are generally 
prone to dissect in the shadow of their own hands. 
To speak playfully, it is my own belief that cataract- 
thunderings, sea-moanings, tree-breathings, wind- 
whistlings, and bird-warblings, are none of them 
composed according to the rules. They ought all to 
be sent to Paris or Rome, to finish their education, 
and go silent meanwhile, unless they can stop their 
wild everlasting variations. 

" Over everything stands its doemon, or soul," says 
Emerson ; " and as the/orm of the thing is reflected 
to the eye, so is the soul of the thing reflected by a 
melody. The sea, the mountain-ridge, Niagara, super- 
exist in precantations, which sail like odours in the 
air ; and when any man goes by with ears sufficient- 
ly fine, he overhears them, and endeavours to write 
them down, without diluting or depraving them." 
Thanks to "old, ever-young Norway," she has sent 
us her finely-organised son, to overhear the voices 
and echoes, and give them to us in immortal music. 
^4 



278 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

How subtle and all-pervading is this spiritual es- 
sence ! How mysterious its action on the material 
world ! You are aware that musicians greatly prefer 
very old instruments. There is a house in France 
whose business it is to collect pine, mostly Swiss, 
from one hundred to two hundred years old, express- 
ly for the manufacture of musical instruments. 

That these are much more mellow in tone than 
those made of new wood, may be owing to the evapo- 
ration of resinous particles. But it is incomprehen- 
sible how an instrument can be rendered more perfect 
by a good performer, while its tone is injured by an 
unskilful one. Yet musicians all agree that it is so. 
The spirit that plays upon it seems to pass into ihe 
very wood. The inside of a violin, that has been 
much used, is indented with vibrations, like tracks 
on a sea-beach ; but how these affect the tone, it is 
difficult to conjecture. 

The small sounding post in the interior of Ole 
Bui's violin being newer than the rest, disturbed his 
ear with imperfect vibrations. While he was in 
Philadelphia, it chanced that the horse of the man, 
who represents General Putnam's tremendous leap 
down the precipice, by some accident plunged into 
the orchestra, and, as Ole Bui expresses it, " killed 
the double-bass;" that is, crushed the instrument. 
He had often observed that the tone of this double- 
bass indicated age, and the habit of being well played 
on. He therefore bought the pieces, and with these 
supplied the place of the newer wood, which had 
disturbed his ear. His violin, which before seemed 
perfect in its clear, rich tones, has, by this slight 
circumstance, gained an added sweetness. 

Are not vibrations continually marked thus on the 
soul, by all we see and hear? Is not that refined 
power of enjoying beauty^ which we gradually and 
insensibly acquire by practice of the eye and ear, 
produced by a process similar to that which im- 
proves the tone of an instrument accustomed to a 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 279 

master's touch? Sure I am, that my soul will 
always be in better tune for having been played 
upon by good music. 

" When the stream of sound, 
Which overflowed the soul, had. passed away, 
A consciousness survived that it had left 
Deposited upon the silent shore 
Of memory, images and gentle thoughts. 
Which cannot die, and will not be destroyed." 

America, in taking the Norwegian minstrel thus 
warmly to her heart, receives more than she can 
give. His visit has done, and will do, more than 
any other cause, to waken and extend a love of music 
throughout the country; and when love exists, it 
soon takes form in science. All things that are alive 
are born of the heart. 



LETTER XXXI. 

December 31, 1844. 

Rapid approximation to the European style of liv- 
ing is more and more observable in this city. The 
number of servants in livery visibly increases every 
season. Foreign artistic upholsterers assert that there 
will soon be more houses in New-York furnished ac- 
cording to the fortune and taste of noblemen, than 
there are either in Paris or London ; and this pro- 
phecy may well be believed, when the fact is consid- 
ered that it is already not very uncommon to order 
furniture for a single room, at the cost of ten thou- 
sand dollars. There would be no reason to regret 
this lavishness, if the convenience and beauty of so- 
cial environment were really increased in proportion 
to the expenditure, and if there were a progressive 
tendency to equality in the distribution. But, alas, 



280 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

a few moments' walk from saloons superbly furnish- 
ed in the style of Louis 14th, brings us to Loafers' 
Hall, a dreary desolate apartment, where shivering 
httle urchins pay a cent apiece, for the privilege of 
keeping out of watchmen's hands, by sleeping on 
boards ranged in tiers. 

But the effects of a luxurious and artificial life are 
sad enough on those who indulge in it, without seek- 
ing for painful contrast among the wretchedly poor. 
Sallow complexions, feeble steps, and crooked spines, 
already show an obvious deterioration in beauty, 
grace, and vigour. Spiritual bloom and elasticity are 
still more injured by modes of life untrue to nature. 
The characters of women suffer more than those of 
men, because their resources are fewer. Very many 
things are considered unfeminine to be done, and of 
those duties which are feminine by universal con- 
sent, few are deemed genteel by the upper classesr 
It is not genteel for mothers to wash and dress their 
own children, or make their clothing, or teach them, 
or romp with them in the open air. Thus the most 
beautiful and blessed of all human relations performs 
but half its healthy and renovating mission. The 
full, free, joyful growth of heart and soul is every- 
where impeded by artificial constraint, and nature has 
her fountains covered by vanity and pride. Some hu- 
man souls, finding themselves fenced within such nar- 
row limits by false relations, seek fashionable distinc- 
tion, or the excitement of gossip, flirtation, and per- 
petual change, because they can find no other unfor- 
bidden outlets for the irrepressible activity of mind 
and heart. A very few, of nature's noblest and 
strongest, quietly throw off the weight that presses on 
them, and lead a comparatively true life in the midst of 
shams, which they reprove only by example. Those 
who can do this, without complaint or noise, and at- 
tempt no defence of their pecuhar course, except the 
daily beauty of their actions, will work out their free- 
dom at last, in the most artificial society that was ever 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 281 

constructed ; but the power to do this requires a rare 
combination of natural quaUties. For the few who 
do accompUsh this difiicult task, I feel even more re- 
spect than I do for those who struggle upward under 
the heavy burden of early poverty. '-'For wealth 
bears heavier on talent, than poverty. Under gold 
mountains and thrones, who knows how many a 
spiritual giant may lie crushed down and buried?" 
I once saw a burdock shoot up so vigorously, that it 
threw oif a piece of board in the platform, which 
covered it from light and air. I had great respect 
for the brave plant, and even carried my sympathy 
so far, as to reproach myself for not having lifted the 
board it was trying so hard to raise, instead of 
watching it curiously, to see how much it could do. 
The pressure of artificial life, I cannot take olf from 
souls that are born in the midst of it; and iew have 
^"within themselves such uplifting life as the burdock. 
It is one of the saddest sights to see a young girl, 
born of wealthy and worldly parents, full of heart 
and soul, her kindly impulses continually checked 
by etiquette, her noble energies repressed by genteel 
limitations. She must not presume to love anybody, 
till father and mother find a suitable match ; she must 
not laugh loud, because it is vulgar: she nmst not 
walk fast, because it is ungenteel; she must not 
work in the garden, for fear the sun and wind may 
injure her complexion ; she must sew nothing but 
gossamer, lest it mar the delicacy of her hands ; she 
must not study, because gentlemen do not admire 
literary ladies. Thus left without ennobling objects 
of interest, the feelings and energies are usually con- 
centrated on frivolous and unsatisfactory pursuits, 
and woman becomes a by- word and a jest, for her 
giddy vanity, her love of dress and beaux. 

Others, of a deeper nature, but without sufficient 
clearness of perception, or energy of will, to find their 
way into freedom, become inert and sad. They ac- 
quire a certain amount of accomplishments, because 
24-* 



282 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

society requires it, and it is less tedious than doing 
nothing. They walk languidly through the routine 
of genteel amusements, until they become necessary 
as a habit, though they impart little pleasure. I 
have heard such persons open their hearts, and con- 
fess a painful consciousness of being good for nothing, 
of living without purpose or aim. But as active use- 
fulness is the only mode of satisfying the human soul, 
and as usefulness is nngenteel, there was no help for 
them, except through modes that would rouse the 
opposition of relatives. And so they moved on, in 
their daily automaton revohitions, with a vague, 
half-smothered hope that life had something in store 
for them, more interesting than the past had been. 
Thus the crew of the Benedict Arnold, when they 
approached the shore of New-England, dismantled, 
in a dark cold night, danced in a circle, to keep them- 
selves from freezing, till the light should dawn. But 
unless light is within, there come no clear directions 
from outward circumstances; and the chance is that 
these half-stified souls will enter into some unconge- 
nial marriage, merely for the sake of novelty and 
change of scene. 

Not unfrequently, have I heard women, who were 
surrounded by all the advantages that outward 
wealth can give, say, with sad and timid self-re- 
proach, "I ought to be happy. It is my own fault 
that I am not. But, I know not how it is, I cannot 
get up an interest in anything." Wlien I remind 
them that Richter said, "I have fire-proof perennial 
enjoyments, called employments," few have faith in 
such a cure for the inanity of life. But tFie only 
certain way to attain habitual content and cheerful- 
ness, is by the active use of our faculties and feel- 
ings. Mrs. Somerville finds too much excitement 
and pleasure in her astronomical investigations, to 
need the poor stimulus of extravagant expenditure, 
or gossipping about her neighbours. Yet the as- 
tronomer discharges all womanly duties with beauti- 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 283 

ful propriety. She takes nothing from her family. 
She merely gives to science those hours which many 
women m the same station waste in idleness or 
dissipation. 

What can be more charming than the example of 
Mrs. Huber, devoting herself to the study of Natural 
History, to assist her blind husband in his observations? 
Or Mrs. Blake, making graceful drawings in her hus- 
band's studio, workingoff the impressions of his plates, 
and colouring them beautifully with her own hand? 
Compare a mere leader of ton with the noble German 
Countess Julie Yon Egloffstein, who dared to follow 
her genius for Art, though all the prejudices of people 
in her own rank were strongly arrayed against it. 
Mrs. Jameson says, " When I have looked at the 
Countess Julie in her painting room, surrounded by 
her drawings, models, casts — all the powers of her 
exuberant, enthusiastic mind, flowing free in their 
natural direction, 1 have felt at once pleasure, admi- 
ration, and respect." The same writer says, "In 
general, the conscious power of maintaining them- 
selves, habits of attention and manual industry in 
women, the application of our feminine superfluity 
of sensibility and imagination to a tangible result, 
have produced fine characters." 

That woman is slowly making her way into freer 
life is evinced by the fact that, in a few highly cul- 
tivated countries, literature is no longer deemed a 
disparagement to woman, and even professed author- 
ship does not involve loss of caste in society. Maria 
Edgeworth, Mary Howitt, Frederika Bremer, our 
own admirable and excellent Catherine Sedgwick, 
and many others widely known as writers, were 
placed in the genteel ranks of society by birth; but 
they are universally regarded with increased respect, 
because they have enlarged their bounds of usefulness, 
to strengthen and refresh thousands of minds. 

Dorothea L. Dix, when she retired from school 
teaching, because the occupation disagreed with her 



284 LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 

health, had a competence tliat precluded the necessity 
of further exertion. "Now she has nothing to do, 
but to be a lady and enjoy herself," said an acquaint- 
ance. But Miss Dix, though characterized by a most 
womanly sense of propriety, did not think it lady- 
like to be useless, or enjoyment to be indolent. " In 
a world Avhere there is so much to be done," said she, 
''I felt strongly impressed that there must be some- 
thing for me to do." Circumstances attracted her 
attention to the insane inmates of prisons and alms- 
houses ; and for several years, she has been to them 
a missionary of mercy, soothing them by her gentle 
influence, guiding them by her counsel, and greatly 
ameliorating their condition by earnest representa- 
tions to selectmen and legislators. Her health has 
improved wonderfully under this continual activity 
of body, mind, and heart. 

Frederika Bremer, in her delightful book called 
Home, tells of one of the unmarried daughters of a 
large family who evinced similar wisdom. She ob- 
tained from her father the sum that would have been 
her marriage portion, established a neat household 
for herself, and adopted two friendless orphan girls 
to educate. 

" Thou mayest own the world, with health 

And unslumbering powers ; 
Industry alone is wealth, 

What we do is ours." 

Use is the highest law of our being, and it cannot 
be disobeyed with impunity. The more alive and 
earnest the soul is by nature, the more does its vitality 
need active use, and its earnestness an adequate 
motive. It will go well with society, when it prac- 
tically illustrates Coleridge's beautiful definition : 
"Labour should be the pleasant exercise of sane 
minds in healthy bodies." 

But to fill employments with a divine life, they 
must be performed with reference to others ; for we 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 285 

,can really enjoy only that of which we impart freely. 
The following extract from one of Beethoven's letters, 
exhibits the human soul in the noblest exercise of its 
immortal powers; viz: embodying the highest con- 
ceptions of Art, from a genuine love of Art, warmed 
by the motive of doing good to others. He writes 
thus: " My compositions are well paid, and I may 
say I have more orders than I can well execute. I 
ask my terms, and am paid. You see this is an ex- 
cellent thing; as, for instance, I see a friend in want, 
and my purse does not at the moment permit me to 
assist him, I have but to sit down and write, and my 
friend is no longer in need." 

The laws of our being are such that we must per- 
form some degree of use in the world, whether we 
intend it, or not; but we can deprive ourselves of 
its indwelling joy, by acting entirely from the love of 
self The manufacturer benefits others somewhat 
by the cloth he makes, and the baker by his bread. 
But if they seek to enrich themselves only, by the 
use of poor materials, and the payment of prices that 
oppress their workmen, they take out of the use that 
divine life, which imparts to the soul perpetual youth 
and bloom. Money thus acquired never satisfies the 
possessor; for in the process of making it, he parts 
with the state of mind, which is alone capable of 
enjoying happiness. The stories of men selling their 
souls to the devil, for treasures wliich merely tanta- 
lize them, are not mere fables. Thousands of poor 
rich men feel the truth in their daily experience. 

To obtain unfailing spiritual wealth by cheerfully 
imparting of what we have, does not require this 
world's riches, or genius like Beethoven's. The poor- 
est and least endowed can secure the treasure, by a 
loving readiness to serve others, according to iheir 
gifts. The lady who plants bulbs, and gathers gar- 
den-seeds, and tries curious horticultural experiments, 
has gained much by the mere innocent occupation of 
her time and thoughts. But if she is unwilling to 



286 LETTERS FROM NEW- YORK. 

give away rare seeds and plants, if she cultivates 
them only for the sake of having something hand- 
somer than her neighbours can have, she takes the 
heart out of her beautiful employment, and renders 
it a spectral pleasure. But if she gives a portion of 
vegetables to a poor widow, who has no land, if she 
invites the aged, and destitute invalids, into her pleas- 
ant walks, if she gives boquets to poor children, and 
strives to make all the neighbouring gardens as beau- 
tiful as her own, why then she really possesses her 
garden, and makes it an avenue of paradise. 

Those who can do nothing more, can now and 
then read a pleasant book to some old man stricken 
with blindness, or teach a coloured child to write, or 
some poor Irish woman to read, or some young house- 
wife how to make bread. Children are found to im- 
prove most rapidly, and make lighter work of study, 
when they are alternately employed in teaching others, 
who know a little less than themselves. The form 
of the use is of small consequence. Whatever our 
gifts may be, the love of imparting them for the good 
of others, brings heaven into the soul. 

Some may think these theories sound well, and 
might work admirably if this world were heaven ; 
yet they too utter the prayer, '- May thy kingdom 
come on earth, as it is in heaven." This wide dis- 
tance between our practical life and the religion we 
profess, teaches, too plainly to be misunderstood, that 
men really do not believe that it would be wise or 
safe to practise the maxims of Christ in a world like 
this. I remember a wealthy family, who scrupulous- 
ly observed all the outward forms of Christianity, 
and inculcated the utmost reverence for its precepts. 
The children were trained to attend church regular- 
ly, and read the bible every morning. But when 
one of the sons took it into his head that the teach- 
ings of the New Testament were to be applied to 
daily life, and public affairs, they were in the utmost 



LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK. 287 

consternation at the nngentility of his views, and the 
oddity of his proceedings. 

But I am preaching a sermon instead of writing a 
letter. If one ever falls into a moralizing vein, they 
are likely to do it on the last day of the year. I bid 
you an affectionate farewell, with this New Year's 
wish for you and myself: 

" So may we live, that every hour 
May die, as dies the natural flower, 
A self-reviving thing of power; 
That every thought, and every deed, 
May hold within itself the seed 
Of future good and future meed." 



BOOKS 

PCBLISIIKD BY 

C. S. FRANCIS & CO, 252 BROADWAY, NEW YORK", 

AND JOSEPH II. FRANCIS, BOSTON. 



tn one volume, handsomely printed, put vp in paper, same style as the Waver 
ley J\rovels. Price 25 cents. 

THE EPICUREAN, 

A TALE, 

BY THOMAS MOORE, ESQ., 

AUTHOR OF LALLA ROOKH, ETC., ETC. 

A new Edition, revised and corrected by the Author, with Notes. 



fn one vohin.e octavo, handsomely printed, in cloth gilt. 

WRITINGS 

OF 

CHARLES SPRAGUE. 

NOW FIRST COLLECTED. 

Consisting of his Poems and Orations. 

Mr. Sprague's poetry is of tlip highest order, and every piece has been stampeo 
with the admiration of the best critics. " 



Jn two vols. 127710, cloth. 

JULIAN; 

Olt, 

SCENES IN JUDEA. 

BY THE AUTHOR OF ZENOBIA, OR LETTERS FROM PALMYRA, 
AND i'ROBUS, OR LETTERS FROM ROME. 
These works, Zenobia, Probus, and Julian, for beauty of style, 
classical taste, and interest of narrative, may challenge comparison with 
any works in the English language. 



In one vol. 12too. — For Students, 
A NEW LH'ERAL TRANSLATION OF 

LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 

BY A GRADUATE OP TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN. 



PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS AND CO., NEW-YORK. 



MENTAL AND MORAL CULTURE, 

AND POPULAR EDUCATION. By S. S. Randall, Gen. Dep. Su- 
perintendent of Common Schools in the Slate of New-York. To which 
is appended a Special Report on Common School Libraries; pre- 
pared in pursuance of the instructions of the Superintendent of Common 
Schools; by Henry S. Randall, Superintendent of Cortlandt County. 
Contents.— Chap. I. The Philosophy of Education.— Chap. II. Physical, Intel- 
lectual, and Moral Culture. — Chap. III. The Nature and Mission of Genius.— Chap. 
IV. Mental Philosophy. — Chap. V. Formation and Development of Character. — 
Chap. VI. Moral Responsibility.— Chap. VII. Public Instruction.— Chap. VIII. Col- 
leges, Academies, and Common Schools. — Chap. IX. Report on Common School 
Libraries. 

"The object which the author of this work has proposed to himself has been to di- 
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to point out the facilities, as well as obstacles, to mental culture, which are presented 
by the varying circumstances of life, by the institutions of society, iind by public 
sentiment." 

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AND HOUSEKEEPER'S REGISTER : being Receipts for Cooking of 

every kind of Meat, Fish, and Fowl ; and making every sort of Soup, 

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Confectionery; Tables for Marketing; a Book of Carving; and Miss 

Leslie's Seventy-five Receipts for Pastry, Cakes, and Sweetmeats. By 

a Boston Housekeeper. 

Containing several thousand receipts, arranged in alphabetical order, preceded by 
general observations on the Management of Families, Cooking Utensils, Diet, Boiling, 
Baking, Roasting, Frying, Broiling, Broths and Soups, and various articles used in 
cooking. 

This book is a complete Culinary Encyclopedia, there being few words or phrases or 
receipts that cannot be found in it; and it embraces all the improvements of modern 
times. It is made very convenient for reference, by being arranged in the form of a 
dictionary. 

Extracts from the Preface. — " The Cook exercises a greater power over the public 
health and welfare than the physician, and if he should be a charlatan in his art, alas! 
for his employers." 

" After insanity, the most grievous affliction of Providence, or of improvidence and 
bad diet, is Dyspepsy. This malady is beyond the science of the physician, but withia 
the art of the Cook." 

" More than health depends upon the proper preparation of food : our very virtues 
are the creatures of circumstances, and many a man has hardened his heart, or given 
up a good resolution, under the operation of indigestion." 

" The study of the author has been to make every recipe plain, and the proportions 
certain ; little is left to discretion that could be reduced to measure. The system of 
confectionery is perfect ; and if strictly followed, every cook may become a first rate 
confectioner. Labour, care and expense have been bestowed upon the work, and the 
publishers feel secure of its merit." 

"It will not be beneath the solicitude of a good wife diligently to study this book, 
by the help of which a neat and well-dressed repast can constantly be provided." 



BOOK OF CARVING. 

THE HAND-BOOK OF CARVING; with Hints on the Etiquette of the 
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Containing directions for Carvinff all kinds of Meat, Poultry, Game, Fish, &c., witl^ 
illustrative engravings. 



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Tweuty-five cards, enclosed in a neat case ; each card having on it a scene or char- 
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SHAKSPERE IN A N E\A^ DRESS. 

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round game, with forfeits. Price 50 cents. ' ' 



N^\Ar FORXUNE-T-ELLER. 

THE ORACLE 6P FORTUNE, and Guide to VVealtb and Success. 

" These interesting cards combine allthe information necessary to secure Wealth, 
and Success in matters of Love or Money, they are constructed on the principles 
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direct any One in the way to good luck." Price 50 cents. 



THE BOY'S OWN BOOK. 

A Complete Encyclopedia of all the Divei-.-<ions, Athletic, Scientific, and 
Recreative, of Boyhood and Youtii. 

Including Games with Marbles, Tops, Balls, Sports of i<|_gility and Speed, Toys, 
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with Cards, Riddles, Amusliig and IFancy Needle- Work, Card-Work, &c. &c. ' ' 



PARLOUR IVJAOlO 

Or, BOYS' BOOK OF AMUSING EXPERIMENTS. 

Containing Transmutations; Experiments in Sight and Sound ; on Light and Heat j 
on Gas and Steam ; on Fire, Water, and Air ; Sleights and Subtleties ; Miscellane- 
ous Experiments. 



GYMNASTIC EXERCISES. 

Paul Preston's Book of Gymnastics ; or Sports for Yout|i to promote 
Health and Long Life. 

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Exercise, Running, Leaping, Throwing the Spear, Climbing, &.c. Sec. &:c., with illus- 
trative diagrams. 



BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS &■ CO., NEW YORK. 

Jn two volumes, 12mo., cloth. 

FOREST LIFE. 

BY THE AUTHOR OF 

"A NEW HOME — WHO'LL FOLLOW?" 



*' Humor, vivacity, keen discernment, graphic powers of description, and a 
thorough Hcqutiintance with American forest life, are the most striking features of 
tiiese volumes. There is not a chapter from which we do not feel strongly disposed 
to q u ote . " — Londo n j^'las, 

"■ Miss Sedgwick must not only acknowledge ' a rival near her throne,' hut she 
must ninke room for a sister on it. 'J'he author of that charming and widely-popu- 
Lii work, ' A New Home,' h;is followed up her successful coup d'essai in the world 
of literature with the volumes before us ; and when we say that they fully sustain 
the promise of their predecessor, we say all that is necessary to secure at once the 
attention of our readers." — Knickerbocker. 

" No less graphic, witty, kindly, sensible, and amusing a book than the prede- 
cessor, of which it is the sequel. Her voice comes to us out of the far unknown wil- 
df-rness, from which she sends it forth, like the clear ringing song of a bird, issuing 
from the heart of a wood." — Democratic Review. 

" Delicate l)ut genial humor, pathos, nice perception of character, and unrivallea 
powers of description, all unite to make her writings most attractive." — JSTew York 
Commercial .Advertiser 

" The present work is a sort of continuation of A New Home — Who'll Follow ? ' 
and we can iissure the readers of that charming work, that in ' Forest Life,' they 
have even a richer feast spread before them than the banquet they enjoyed at hei 
hobpitable hom£ in the far West." — JVew World. 

" We admire her dashing style, her delineations of the homely manners, habits, 
and peculiarities of Western life, and commend the volumes to all the admirers of 
genuine American literature." — Merchants^ Magazine. 

" These are charming volumes, written with a fVeshness and spirit that delight 
and would surprise us, were we not familiar with the first work of their author. 
Mrs. Kirkland has opened a new vein in our national literature. Her sketches of 
forest scenery and wood-craft, with all its varied details, are not less true than 
graj)hic. " — Oraham's Magazine. 

" The great charm of ' A New Home ' and ' Forest Life,' is, that they tell us 
'just what we want to know ' of that wonderful country to which half of us mean 
to go, while the other half, in resolving to stay at home, think of, and talk of it 
almost as much as the emigrants themselves. Half an hour with one of these 
books, is like half an hour's chat with one of our pleasant Western kinsfolk. ' — 
Boston Miscellany. 



In one volume, 12wjo., cloth, 

A NEW HOME— WHO'LL FOLLOW? 

OR, 

GLIMPSES OP WESTERN LIFE. 

BY MRS. MARY CLAVERS, AN ACTUAL SETTLER. 
THIRD EDITION. 



BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS &- CO., NEW YORK 



NEW TEXT -BOOK FOR SCHOOLS. 



In one volume, l8mo. 

THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY, 

AND THE 

PRIVATE AND POLITICAL RIOHTS AND OBLIGATIONS 

OF MANKIND, 

BY JONATHAN DYMOND. 

ABRIDGED, AND PROVIDED WITH QUESTIONS, FOR THE USE OF 
SCHOOLS, AND YOUNG PERSONS GENERALLY. 

BY CAROLINE M. KIRKLAND. 



*' This abridgment of the larger work of Dymond, on the PrincipJes of Morality. 
13 eiuitleil to all acceptation. The original treatise has passed through several 
editions since its first appearance in this country, although it has not even yet com- 
manded a degree of attt;ntion at all proportioned to its merits, which are of tiie 
highest order. Without launching out into abstruse speculations on the grounds of 
moral obligation, it takes its stand on the revealed will of God as the rule of prac- 
tical ethics, and in a tone of earnest, but kind and winning remonstrance, rebukes 
the iax principles and practices of the age, and summons ail classes up to the high 
and pure standard of the Bible. 

" The author's exposure of the hollow parts of Palcy's system, is managed with 
the hand of a master, and no one can peruse Ijut witli admiration h« skilful detec 
tion of the fallacies by which a loose casuistry often seeks to confound distinctions 
and pervert right. 

"Notwithstanding the admitted value of Wayland, we think Dymond deci- 
dedly preferable as a text-book for schools, and feuiale seminaries in particular, 
we are persuaded, can find no work so well suited to their object. This testimony, 
we trust, will carry with it some more weight, not only from the fact that it comes 
from one well acquainted with the work, but one who voluntarily tenders this as 
an unsolicited tribute to a treatise of merit ur.equalled in its line. — B." (Rev 
George Bush.) 

From the Boston Recorder. 

" The abridgment of the original work of Dymond, for the use of schools, and the 
young generally, is a happy thought. The execution of such a purpose couM not 
have been better done than by her who has undertaken it in this volume. It is not 
enough to say that we have been pleased, for we have been greatly delighted, with a 
labor th it has resulted in presenting to the youth of our country, in so condensed a 
form, and yet in so clear and nervous a style, the great principles of morality, as 
they are delineated in the gospel of Christ. The combination of philosophy with 
revelation is most happily effected, without the slightest violence to either, and the 
perfect harmony exhibited l»etween them, claims the confidence and admiration of 
every intelligent reader. We speak with great assurance when we say, that the 
friends of humanity and religion will have occasion to rejoice, when the ' Prmciples 
of Morality,' developed in the Essays of Dymond, shall find a place in all our 
higher schools, and it might be added, in all the family libraries of the lund." (Rev 

R. S. STORR3, D. D.) 

Prom the Oneida Whig. 
" This is in truth an excellent book, and in its present form, undoubtedly the 
most complete anil admirable compendium extant of moral and political philosophy, 
both theoretical and practical, founded upon the conjoint principles of right, natural 
reason, and the will of a Supreme Being. In its present shape, skilfully abridged 
and condensed as it is by our intelligent countrywoman, Mrs. Kirkland, it is not 
only a work peculiarly adapted to the use of schools and young persons, but for 
those of all ages, and of every standing, education, and condition of life, and will 
constitute a most useful and proper manual of personal and social duty in every 
family. — B." 



In cloth, plain. .^Iso, in ornamental binding, for Presents. 
THE 

POPULAR POEMS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

NEW EDITIONS. 

With the Author's latest Corrections, Introductions, and Notes ; 

£ACH IN A SINGLE VOLUME, WITH BEAUTIFUL STEEL ENGRAVINGS. 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL. 

BALLADS AND SONGS. 



"For vivid richness of coloring, and truth of costume, many of the descriptivs 
passajjes of tJiis poem stand almost unrivjilled. It carries us b.ick in imagination 
to the time of action ; and we wander with the poet along Tweedsidc, or among 
the wild glades of Ettrick Forest." 



M A R M I O N . 

a 5rale of j?lot»tien jTfeltr. 

" This poem rs superior to all that Scott has hitherto produced, and with a few 
faults of diction, equal to any thing that has ever been written." — Jeffr£T, 
Edinburirh Review. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE ; 

Kn Sfp Santos. 

THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 

" There is a richness and spirit in this poem, a profusion of incident, and a 
shifting brilliancy of coloring, tliat remind us of the witchery of Ariosto." — 
Jeffrey. 



ROKEBY 



THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN. 

"The interest inspired by the fihle, the masterly delineations of the characters 
by wliose agency the plot is unravelled, and the spirited, nervous conciseness of tho 
narrative, we think will satisfy the expectations which the author's reputation hss 
excited." — Edinburgh Review. 



THE LORD OF THE ISLES. 



THE FIELD OF WATERLOO, AND OTHER FOEMS. 



*' Another genuine lay from the harp of that indefatigable minstrel. The same 
glow of coloring, the siame en'-rgy of n irration, the same amplitude of description, 
are conjipicuous here, which distinguish all his other productions," — Edinburgh 
Review 



BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS, NEW YORK. 
MEDICAL. 



In one thick vol., 800, sheep : with plates. 

THE PRINCIPLES OF MIDWIFERY 

INCLUDING THE 

DISEASES OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN. 

BY JOHN BURNS, M. D., ETC. 
Revised and enlarged, with improvements and notes, by T. C. James, M.D 

In one thick portable volume. 

A MANUAL OF SURGERY, 

FOUNDKD UPON THE PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE LATELY TAUGUT BY 

SIR ASTLEY COOPER AND J. H. GREEN, F. R. S., ETC, 

EDITED BY THOMAS CASTLE, F. L. S. 



In one volume, l8mo.; sheep. 

A PRACTICAL FORMULARY 

OF THE PARISIAN HOSPITALS. 

Exhibiting the Prescriptions employed in the establishments of that city 

with remarks upon the modes of administration, &c. ; 

also, notices of each hospital. 

By R S. RATIER, M.D., Etc. 

In one volume, ISrno. 

A MANUAL OF THERAPEUTICS. 

BY L. MxlRTlNET, D. M. P. 

TRANSLATED WITH ALTERATIONS AND ADDITIONS, 
BY ROBERT NORTON, M.D. 



One folio volume ; paper. 

ILLUSTRATIONS of SURGICAL ANATOMY, 

TWELVE PLATES, PLAIN OR COLORED, 

WITH DESCRIPTIONS. 

One volume,18mo., with colored plates 

OBSERVATIONS ON : 

STRABISMUS OR SQUINTING. 

WITH AN ACCOUNT OF A NEW OPERATION FOR THE 

CURE OF STAMMERING, 

BY ALFRED C. POST M.D., ETC. 



46 to 52. Tales of a Grandfather, 

Being TRUE STORIES frotn the Histories of Scotland and France, 
By Sib Walter Scott. 

These tales were written by Sir Walter Scott for the use of hia grand- 
son. They embrace a general view of Scottish and French History, with 
a selection of the most interesting incidents related in the unrivaled 
style of the author. 

Abstract of Contents. — Vol I. Enghind anil Scotland. Macbeth. Nor- 
man conquest. Sir Wm. Wallace, ilobert Bruce. Battle of Bannock- 
burn Government of Scotland. Edward Baliol. Halidon Hill. Tour- 
nament. War of 1.^85. Murder of Karl Douglas, Wars of the Doug- 
lases. Invasion of England. Battle of Flodden. James V. Border 
freebooters. Church of Rome. The Reformation. War with England. 
Mary dueen of Scots. Murler of Rizzio. Death of Darnley. Regent 
Murray. Civil Wars. Execution of .Mary. &c. &c. &c. 

Vol. II. — Progress of Civilisation. Elizabeth. James VI. Border feuds. 
Wild state of the Western Isles. Donald of the Hammer. Scotsmen 
in foreign service. Puritans Covenanters. Long Parliament. Charles 
I. Civil wars. Graham of Montrose. Riiligious persecutions. Crom- 
well's invasions. Charles II. Exploits of Evan Dhu. Witchcraft. 
General Monk. ic. &.c. &c. 

Vol. III. — Church affairs. Episcopacy. Conventicles. Covenanters. 
Assas.sination of Bishop Sharpe. Graham of Ciaverhouse. Battle of 
Bothwcll bridge. Cameronians. Duke of Monmouth. Whig and Tory. 
Popery and the Test Act. William and Mary. Civil war. Battle of 
Killiecrankie. Pacification of the Highlands. Massacre of Glencoe. 
Darien scheme. Execution of Capt. Green, (iueen Anne. The 
Union. &c. «&c. &c. 

Vol. IV — Mutual dislike between Scots and English. Chevalier de St. 
George. 'J"he Jacoliitcs. Dukes of Hamilton and Argyle. Duchess 
of Marlborough. Bolinbioke and Oxford. The Highlands. State of 
parties. Earl of JVtar. Rebellion of 1715. The Pretender. Macin- 
tosh's descent upon Lothian. Battle of SherifFmuil. Riots in Glasgow. 
The Porteus Mob. &c. &c. &c. 

Vol. V. — State of the Highlands and Lowlands. Frazer lord Lovat. Sir 
Robert Walpole. George I and If. Marriage and adventures of the 
Chevalier. Prince Cliaries Edward. Invasion of Scotland and England. 
Possession of E(linbnr;,'h. King James VIII. Battle of Prestonpans. 
Battle of Falkirk. Battle of CuUoden. Adventures of Prince Charles, 
his escape and death. Conclusion. &c. &.c. &c. 

Vol. VI. — Account of the Gauls. Roman Government. Julian the 
Apostate. The Golh.^. Attila. Conquests of Clovis. The Saracens. 
Charlemagne. Louis the debonnaire. Siege of Paris. Feudal system. 
Rollo duke of Normandy. Charles the simple. War with Germany. 
Hugo Caput. Henry I. Chivalry. Saxon conquest of England. Nor- 
man conquest. William the conqueror. Philip Augustus. The Cru- 
sades. Knights of St John. Wars in the holy land. Quarrel of Louis 
and Eleanor. Henry 11. of England. Thomas i Becket. Richard Coeur 
de Lion. The Albigcnses. Invasion of England. Queen Blanche 
Louis the lion and liis aiiventares in the holy land. &c. &c. &c. 

Vol. VII. — Chants of Anjou. Sicilian Vespers Philip the fair. Knights 
Templars. Affairs of Kngland. Wars between England and France. 
Gunpowder. Battle of Cressy. Queen Philippa. Black Prince. Battle 
of Poicticrs. The Jacijuerie War in Normandy. Don Pedro of Castile. 
Bertrand du Guesclin. Charles the wise. Wars in Flanders. Duke of 
Burgundy. Expciiiiions a^jaiust the Turks. &c. &.c. &.c 



LIFE AND WRITINGS 



SIR AYALTER SCOTT. 



LIFE. 
Vols. I to VIII, Memoirs ul the Life of Scott, by J. G. Lockhart. 



WAVE RLE Y 

VOLS. 

1, 2, Waverley, 
3, 4. Guy Mannering;, 
5, t), Tiie Ai;tiquary, 
7, 8, Rub lioy, 
9, 10, Tales of My Landlord, 
First Series : — Black. 
Dwarf— Oid ?vIorlality. 
ll, 12, Tales of my Laiidloid, 
Second Series : The 
Heart of Mid-Lolhian, 
13, 14, Tales of my Landlord, 
Third Scries : I'iie 
Bride of Lammermoor 
— A Legetid of Mon- 
trose, 
15, 16, Ivanhoe, 
17, 18, Tile Monaslery, 
19, 20, The Abbot, 
21, 22, Kenilworth, 
23, 24, The Pirate, 
2r\ 26. The Fortunes of Nigel, 
27, 28, Peveril of the Peak, 
2d, 3'), QiJentin Durward, 
31, 32, St. R.jnan's Well, 



NOVELS, &c. 

VOLS. 

33, 31, Redgauntlet, 

35, 36, Talcs of the Crusaders : 
Ttie Betrothed— The 
Talisman, 
37, 38, Woodstock, 

39, 40, Chronielesof the Canon- 
gale, First Scries : 
Highland Widow- 
Two Drovers, &c. 

41, 42, Chroniclesof the Canon, 
gate, Second Series : 
Si. Valentine's Day, 

43, 44, Aune of Geierstein, 

45, 46, Count Robert of Paris, 

47, 48, Cai^tIe Dangerous, and 
Talcs of a Grandfather, 
Finst Series, 

49, 50, Tales of a Grandfather, 
Second Scries, 

51, 52, Tales of a Grandfather, 
Tiiird Series, 

53, 54, Tales of a Grandfather, 
Fourth Series, 



POEMS. 

55, 56, Lay of the Last Minsirel, — Ballads, Songs, &c. 

57, 58, Marniion — Occasioisal Pieces. 

59, 60, Lady of the Lake — Vision of Don Roderick. 

61, 62, Rokeby — Bridal of Trierniain. 

63, 64, Lord of the Isles — Field of Waterloo — Miscellaneous Poems 

65, 66, Harold the Dauntless — Dramatic Pieces. 

These works, which are h.-iiidsoinely printed on good paper, from larfje type, 
are (lublished al twenty five cents a volunih, or, with an engraving, ihirly-one ■ 
ceiita ; a price witliin the ni<ans of every one desirous of owning the works 
of this celebrated auttior. Any distinct work of this edition will be sold sepa- 
rately, and may be had at any time, at tiie option of the purchaser. Complete 
KU may also be had iu uniform and liandsome binding of various styles. 



BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRAN.:iS & CO., NEW VORK. 

la one volume, I2mj., c'oth. 

A NEW HOME — WHO'LL FOLLOW? 

OR, 

GLLIPSES OF WESTERN LIFE. 

BY MRS. MARY CLAVERS, AN ACTUAL SETTLER. 

Third Edition. 



*' This is a work of striking merit, such as we do not often meet with in these 
days of repetition and imitation. The real enjoyments of forest life are set forth 
in tiieir true colors ; but the real inconveniences, and annoyances, and sacrifices 
which belong to it, .ire not extenuated." * * * * 

" It is one of the most spirited and original works which have yet been produced 
in this country." — JVorth American Review. 

" This work shows evidence of a genius for description very uncommon, even in 
these days of clever narrative. Done with a nerve, an elegance of quotation and 
allusion, a playfulness of style, and a pure and Christian-like spirit of resignation 
Lud good humor, which warrant us in pronouncing it one of the first productions of 
the d ly. More eminently readable matter has not fallen under our notice for a long 
time." — Grant's London Journal. 

" One of the cleverest productions of the season ; containing very interesting 
and lively pictures of Western life, character, and manners." — J^Tew York Review. 

" Mrs. Clavers's sketches are lively, fresh-colored, and characteristic. We 
recommend the book to all who have any appetite for what is humorous and 
graphic in the light literature of America." — London Jltheneum. 

" This book is agreeable as a whole ; valuable as a picture of daily household 
life, and of village society in a new Western settlement, and curious for its glimpses 
of love and marriage, of a more sentimental kind, in the United States." — London 
Spectator. 

" One of the most natural, pleasant, and entertaining books that we have read 
for a twelvemonth." — Knickerbocker. 

" This is a real view of the settlers in the far West, and, we imagine, gives a more 
minute and faiiliful account of their daily life than any book of travels that has been 
published." — London Litrrary Gazette. 

" The most amusing an'l -piriterl work, descriptive of life in the West, that we 
have perused since we read Mr. HofTtnan's Western Tour. The volume is spiced 
with many beautiful descrijitioiis of natural scenery, and abounds in classic allu- 
sions and happy illustrations." — The Corsair. 

•'This work gives us n simple picture of ' a home on the outskirts of civiliza- 
tion,' and prostrnts ns with an ' unvarnished tale ' of the life of the emigrant. It is 
amusing in the extreme, and so vivid in its coloring, that, as we read, we might 
almost fincy onrself in Michigm, participating with the fair authoress in the 
vicissitudes and truuiilus of getting domesticated in a shinglo palace." — Boston 
Traiiscnpt. 



In tioo volumes, V-Znio., cloth. 

FOREST LIFE. 

BT THE AUTHOR OF 

"A NEW U O M E - W H O ' L L F O L 1. O W ? 



BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS, NEW YORK. 



FOR YOUNG PERSONS. 

In eight volumes, illustrated by more than 1,000 engravings. 
Each volume sold separately. 

PARLEY'S MAGAZINE. 

OF INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAINMENT FOR 
THE YOUNG. 



In one volume, 18 mo., illustrated by engravings. Cloth gilt. 

THE YOUNG MAN'S 

EVENING BOOK 

OF USEFUL AND ENTERTAINING READING, 

CONTAINING BIOGRAPHICAL, NOTICES ; PERSONAL ADVENTURES ; 

SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY ; POETRY ; INTERESTING ANECDOTES, 

POPULAR SCIENCE ; INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL, &-C. 



In one large square volume, illustrated by upwards of 
One hundred engravings. 

THE HISTORY OF 
SANDFORD AND MERTON; 

BY THOMAS DAY. 

A NKW EDITION. 



In press. 
THE ADVENTURES OF 

QUINTIN HAREWOOD 

AND HIS BROTHER BRIAN 

BY PAUL PRESTON. 

In one volume, ISmo., illustrated by 50 engravings. Cloth gilt. 

THE WINTER EVENING BOOK 

OF AMUSING AND USEFUL READING; 

CONTAINING PERSONAL NAPvRATIVE ; INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL ; 
POPULAR INFORMATION IN SCIENCE ; POETICAL SELEC- 
TIONS ; AND OTHER SUBJECTS SUITED TO INTEREST 
AND IMPROVE THE MIND. 



Drawinff for Yoimg Children ; 

Containing One Hundred and Fifty Drawing Copies, and nuMU- 
Eous Exercises ; accompanied bt ample Diuections both for 
Teacher and Pupil. Published originally under the superintendence 
of the London Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 

Extract from the Introduction. 
" Most little children attempt to draw of their own accord, and frequent- 
ly receive much pleasure from their rude productions ; but the want of as- 
sistance and encouragement generally prevents them from making any pro- 
ficiency. The object of this book is to assist the instrucler in teaching 
drawing to young children, or rather to show how children may be put in 
the way of instructing themselves, and of turning the ait to the best account 
for the improvement of their faculties.* * * * In this book, a beginning only 
is attempted. So much of drawing is given as every person ought to pos- 
sess, and might easily acquire. The explanations and illustrations are so 
full, that the Instructer, though previously unpractised in drawing, may 
commence the art with a young child by taking a very little trouble. 

" Drawing is of use, directly, as a general written language, superior in 
■everal respects to penmanship ; it is almost indispensable to many profes- 
sions and trades, and highly useful in many others ; and it would, if gene- 
rally disseminated, be a powerful means of increasing the innocent enjoy- 
ments, good feelings, and good taste of a community. It is of use indirect- 
ly, by the discipline it gives to the eye, hand, powers of observation, mem- 
ory, invention, taste, and in a degree to the other mental faculties. We 

have only to notice the delight shown by children looking over a book of 
pictures, compared with that which they show in reading a book, to be con- 
vinced how powerful an instrument of instruction drawing might be made.'* 

Woman, as Maiden, Wife and Mother. 

An Epitome of Social Duties and Domestic Enjoyments. From the 
12th London Edition, thoroughly revised and improved. By a Ladt* 
Contents. Comparative estimate of difference of temperament between 
Male and Female Children. Dolls, Toys, Books, Piano. Nursery maids, 
their evil, and Ghost Stories. Boarding Schools, and their tendency. Ex- 
ercise ; Conduct of parents to their daughters ; Dress, Graces, Compan- 
ions ; Love ; Religion. The WIFE. Mutual forbearance ; Quarrels ; 
Candor ; Housekeeping ; Expenses ; Family hours ; Toilette ; Parties ; 
Behavior to male friends ; How to make men in love with marriage. The 
MOTHER. Preparation of mind for the Event. Remarks thereon. Love 
of offspring. Her trials ; the attention that should be shown her: Dress of 
Children ; Maternal obligations ; Weaning ; Quackery ; Advice as to the 
regulation of the love due to a husband, in combination with an affectionate 
regard for the Children. Domestic management. Moral rearing. A good 
Parent's first care. The NURSERY. Nurses, and absurd practices : Ex- 
ercise of Infants ; Deformity by erroneous mode of Nursing. Respiration 
of infants, &c. FAMILY MANAGEMENT. Dinner table. Household 
Economy ; Cookery ; Properties of Food, &c. GUIDE TO KNITTING 
Fiftv Examples, with ample directions, as well as for Crotchet or Tambour 
JVeat pocket volume, gilt edges, 38 cents. 



USEFUL SCIIOOL-EOOK : 

Introduced into me Coiuiutm &ciioc;» oi' N. Yc.k Uity and Philadelphia. 

Conversations on CoiiniiCn Tliiiigs : 

Or a. Guide to Knowledge ; comprising Q,ue.<tioris and Answers on the 

following subjects, and which give to the readers a knowledge of their 

nature, growth, manufacluie, and use. 

Acacia tree. Agate, Air, Ale, Alabaster, Aligator, Allspice, Almonds, 
Alum, Amber, Ambergris, Amethyst, Aniianth, Anana-pkmt, Ap])leg, A(iua- 
fortis, Aquatinta, Arts, Arithmetic, Asbestos, Ash-trep, Aspnn, Asphaltum, 
Bamboo, Banks, Bank-notes, Barley, Baskets, IJeaver, Beech-trees, Beer, 
Bees-wax, Bell-metal, Bells, Benzoin, Beryl, Bitumens, Birch-tree, Box- 
wood, Books, Blue vitriol. Brass, Brandy, Bronze, Brick, Bread-fruit tree, 
Brazil-wood, Butter-nut bark. Bullion, Buck wheat. Burning glasses. Cacao 
nut, Calico, Camphor, Camel, Cambric, Candles, Cannon, Cantharides, 
Caoutchouc, Capers, Cashmere, Castor-plant, Casting of metals. Carbon, 
Carthamus, Caraway, Cartridge-balls, Cedar tree. Century, Charcoal, Chest- 
nut tree. Chocolate,' China ware, Cider, CinnE^bar, Cigars, Citron, Cinna- 
mon, Cloth-making, Clouds, Cloves, Clocks, Cochineal, Ocoa-nut tree, 
Cotfee, Colours, Coral, Corn, Coal, (Joins, Copperas, Cork-tree, Cornelian, 
Cotton, Copper, Co.iander, Cream of Tartar, Crocodile, Crayons, Currants, 
Cypress-tree, Cyphering, Days of the week, Date-tree, Dials, Diamonds, 
Dromedary, Earthquakes, Eiiony-tree, Elm-tree, Elephant, Emery, Emerald, 
Engraving, Etching, Esculent vegetables. Figs, Fire-flies, Flannels, Flax, 
Flax-seed, Flour, Foundery, Frankincense, Fresco, Fustic, Gall-nuts, Gam- 
bouge. Garnet, German-black, Ginger, Ginseng, Gin, Glass, Glow-worm, 
Gold, Government, Grapes, Gum-Aral)ic, Gum elastic, Guiacum, Guava, 
Gunpowder, Guineas, Gopher wood. Hats, Hail, Hair-powder, Hedge hog. 
Hemp, Honey, Holly tree. Hops, Hurricane, Huts, Hyaena, Ink, India rub- 
ber, India ink, Indian corn, Indian-wood, Indigo, Iron, Ising-glass, Ivory, 
Ivory black. Japanning, Jatropha, Jet, Kermes, Kid, Lace, Lake or Laeca, 
Lamp-black, Landan tree, Laws, Lapis caliminaris, Laudanum, Lead, Lead- 
pencils, Leather, Lemons, Lettuce, Liberty, Libraries, Lime, Lig-ht, Lig- 
num-vitse. Linen, Lithogra|)hy, Liquorice, Load-stone, Locust, Log-wood, 
Machmeal-tree, Mace, Madder, Magnet, Mahogany, Manna, Manufactures, 
Mango, Mangosteen, Maple-tree, Mariner's compass, Marble, Marbled paper, 
Mead, Metheglin, Metals, Mezzotinto, Millet, Mills, Mineral Caoutchouc, 
Mineral green. Mineral oils, Mineral pitch, Mineral tar, Mint, Microscope, 
Months, Money, Molasses, Morocco, Mosaic, Multiplication table. Musk, 
Muslin, Musical glasses. Myrrh, Naptha, Newspapers, Nitre, Notes of hand, 
Numerical figures, Nntmegs, Nut-galls, Oats, Oak tree. Oils, Oil springs, 
Oiled silk. Opium, Opiates, Oranges, Ores, Orris-root, Ostrich, Painting, 
Papyrus, Paper, Paper mulberry. Paper-making, Parchment, Pearls, Pears, 
Pimento, Pepper, Perry, Pens, Peruvian bark. Petroleum, Pewter, Pine- 
apple, Pine-tree, Pitch, Platina, Plumbago, Pomegranate, Poplar-tree, Pop- 
py, Porcelain, Porphyry, Porcupine, Porter, Potato, Printing, Printing on 
China, Primary colours, Prunes, Quercitron, Ciuills, Quicksilver. Rain, 
Rainbow, Raisins Rattans, Rapeseed, Red lead. Reindeer, Religion, Repub- 
lic, Rhubarb, Rice, Rima tree. Rosin, Ruby, Rum, Rye, Sago, t^altpetre, 
Salt, Salt springs, Sappliire, Samiel, Sculpture, Sealing wax. Senna, Shells 
Sheep, Shaddocks, Shagreen, Shell-lac, Shammy, Silk, Silkworm, Silver 
Sittah tree. Skins, Smoke black. Snow, Snuff, Spanish black, Spectacles 
Spices, Spikenard, Sponge, Steel, Starch, Statuary, Sun-dials, Sugar, Su 
mac. Spermaceti, Tallow-tree, Tamarinds, Tartar, Tar, Tea, Telescopes 
Thermometer, Time, Tin Tobacco, Topaz, Tortoise, Tow, Trasacanth 
Tumeric, Turpentine, Turquois, Types, Wax, Wax fruit. Walnut tree 
Water-soauts. W^atches. Weld. Whirlwinds. Whiskey, Wine, Woo'', Wool 
Wlieat, White vitriol, Writing, vegeian.e tanou, v e^ctab.e w:.x, Ve^dta 
bles, Varnish, Vellum, Verditer, Vermilion, Vines, Vinegar, Vitriol Yams 



SCHOOL DISTRICT LIBRARY, 

rUBLILHED BT 

C. S. FRANCIS & CO. 

262 Broad-way, Ne-w York. 



A detailed account of the contents and character of these works, and 
the price of each, may be found in * The Literary Advertiser ' of the 
publishers, which is furnished gratis, either iu New York or Boston. 



LIBRARY OF ENTERTAINING AND USEFUL READING. 



Twelve volumes, large 18mo. 288 pages each, namely : — 
THEMIRROR . . with 22 Engravings. 

THE CABINET . 
THE CASKET 



THE TREASURY 

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THE MEMORIAL 

THE GLEANER . 

THE EMPORIUM 

THE SELECTOR 

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LIBRARY OF INSTRUCTIVE AMUSEMENT. 



Six volumes, 18mo. 336 pages each, namely : — 
YOUNG MAN'S EVENING BOOK 50 Engravings. 
WINTER EVENING BOOK 
SUMMER DAY BOOK 
EVERY DAY BOOK 
PARLOUR BOOK 
LEISURE HOUR BOOK 



19. BELZONI'S TRAVELS IN EGYPT, with 13 Platef. 

20. TRUE STORIES FROM HISTORY. By a Lady. 

21. 22. AROUND THE W O R L D , by an Officer of the Navy. 
23. 24. Z E N O B I A, OR the Fill or Palhtba.. 



Wrimeit tf Co*'>8 School District liibrary* 

35—28. LIFE OF WALTER SCOTT, by J. G. Lockhart. 
29. SANDFORD AND MERTON, CorrecUd, Pictorial ed. 
30—39. PARLEY'S MAGAZINE. 10 large volomea. 



SECOND SERIES. 

40. PRINCIPLES OFMORALITY. By Jonathan Dymond. 

41. A NEWHOME— WHO'LL FOLLOW? 

49. 43. FORESTLIFE. By Mrs. C. M. Kirkland. 

44. LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. By Mrs. Child. 

45. CONVERSATIONS ON COMMON THINGS. 
46—52. TALES OF A GRANDFATHER. WalterScott. 

53. MENTAL AND MORAL CULTURE. By S.S.Randall. 

54. THE LIBRARIAN. 

65. PARLEY'S MAGAZINE, Vol. xi. 

56. HISTORICAL TALES. By Agnes Strickland. 



BOYS' AND GIRLS' LIBRARY. 

58. ADVENTURES OF QUINTIN HAREWOOD. 

69. FAREWELL TALES. By Mrs. Hofland. 

60. 61. ROBINSON CRUSOE. 

62. PARLE Y'S BIBLE STORIES. 

63. PAUL PRESTON'S VOYAGES and TRAVELS 

64. SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON. 

65. BOY'S STORY BOOK. 

66. 67. PARENT'S ASSISTANT. By Mrs. Edgeworth 

68. CASKET OF GEMS. 

69. THE EVERGREEN. 



70—83. THE ROLLO BOOKS. 
THE LUCY BOOKS. 



%* These books have been submitted to the Superintendent of Com- 
mon Schools of the State of New York, and the introdnction of them 
into all the District Libraries throughout the State is approved by 
him. They have also been highly recommended by the County and 
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